#and that security guard at his house is useless too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

st-kitten · 1 year ago

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WARNINGS: (m.) masturbation, nicknames (baby, babygirl, good girl, princess, pretty girl) little megumi being painstakingly adorable

life as a single father trying to make ends meet was hard for toji fushiguro. his job as a security guard for some company didn't pay much. whatever he earned went into bills, rent, and groceries, leaving next to nothing for him to save or even spend. how he wished there was a simpler way to earn. he'd be exhausted by the time he came home and crashed, only to be woken up by megumi. as much as he loved the kid, getting him ready for school and out the door was harder than an mma fight.

all the babysitters he hired were useless. most of them agreed just to get into his pants so, when they found out that they were hired 'because' he couldn't be home, they left in disappointment.

toji never relied on his neighbours either. partially because they were too old or kids themselves, with parents who also hired babysitters. the closest anyone ever came to being a candidate was his next door neighbour, you.

but he vowed to never approach you. even if it meant leaving megumi to cry midday, over a glass of spilled milk. why?

[flashback]

toji had just helped megumi catch the school bus. waving him goodbye, he went back inside the building. the days got colder each passing day, which meant that he was going to have to repair the broken heater and buy some warm clothes. how ever was he going to afford it in time?

collecting the mail, he stood in the temporary warmth of the elevator, yawning. he really wanted to go back to sleep. his work began at 10 am, so he still had two hours, maybe he could take a nap. or fix that heater himself.

he stood in front of his apartment, looking through his pockets for the keys when he heard muffled noises from the apartment next door. he had only seen you once, when he accidentally took your mail instead of his and had to give it back to you. you always seemed distant and cold, so hearing you softly, yet loudly screaming a series of "yes! yes! keep doing that!" at 8 am made him wonder what the fuck was wrong with you.

he let it slide. people had lives.

but you didn't stop there. when toji came back from his work at night, holding a bag of vegetables, he heard you again.

"oh god! yes!"

and two days later when toji brought megumi home early as he got sick in school, "just like that, baby!" he had to keep babbling random trivia to his son so that he wouldn't hear you. how many times is she going to do this?

when it was toji's day off, and he was taking a nap on the couch, he heard you moaning again. it wasn't that loud, but the single wall between your apartment and his did a terrible job at muffling it. toji was glad that megumi was at school.

[back in present time]

months had passed by and he was still not used to hearing you. he'd forgotten what you looked like, so he didn't recognise you whenever you passed by him or even when you were in the elevator with him. all he knew was that he hated you for being so disturbing.

the day he was dreading finally came when he wanted someone to look after megumi for the night as he had to cover someone's shift, and not a single person was available. with an ale tankard of reluctance, he rang the doorbell, truly expecting you to open it naked, some angry fucker peeking from behind 'cause he didn't get to finish...

so when you opened the door looking the complete opposite; wearing loose sweatpants, a barbie hoodie, house slippers and your hair tied in a messy bun, half a banana dangling in your mouth... toji held back a sigh of relief.

"hey... i'm toji, i live next door," he said, trying to sound sincere.

"i mow woo yooah," you said, chewing the banana quickly, and swallowed it.

"right... listen, i gotta cover an extra shift and i need someone to look after this brat for the night."

you held back a laugh upon hearing him refer to his son like that. you'd only seen megumi from a distance. but, you had no reason to refuse.

"sure! i'd be happy to!"

toji was still unsure about this, but there was no backing out now.

"cool. i'll send him in twenty minutes." toji vanished before you could say anything else. you chuckled to yourself. for a man of his size and built, he sure was a chicken when it came to communication.

you cleaned your living room before he could come back. your place was kid-friendly enough. you made sure you prep the kitchen in case he hadn't had dinner.

your doorbell rang and you scurried to open it.

"here's a list of things you'll have to do... he's... a little tough. but he's a good kid."

you took the list and gave it a brief look and nodded.

"alright, megs, you're gonna be staying with this lady today. i'll be back soo-"

megumi began tugging his father's pants grumpily, upset at his words.

"don't be like that, kid..." toji sighed. he didn't like to exhibit his personal life in front of others.

"please? i'll get you ice cream."

megumi's ears perked upon hearing ice cream. "chocolate?" he cooed.

"yes. now go inside."

clutching a tattered dog plushie (with two heads for some reason), he stepped inside your apartment, looking down.

toji knelt down to meet his eyes. straightening megumi's sweater, he said, "i'll be back tomorrow morning. behave, okay?" megumi nodded, almost on the verge of crying. you held back the 'awwws'.

"alright... i'm trusting you. don't f- mess it up," said toji, looking at you with a glare.

"i won't..." you just smiled solemnly. you'd say the same if you were in his position.

toji wanted to tell you to not have sex for that one night, but he chose not to add fuel to the fire. who was he to tell you not to fuck? if anything, he was mildly jealous that you got to enjoy it so much.

toji left and you turned back to megumi, who was standing in your living room, anxious to move a muscle.

you sighed. "hello, megumi. i'm y/n." you crouched down and held out your hand to him. he hesitated before holding three of your fingers and shaking them. you smiled.

"sorry about this... you don't know me at all and now you're stuck with me. must be weird."

megumi stayed silent. you got up and went to the kitchen, which was open and visible from your living room easily. you opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of chocolate milk that you'd gotten free with something.

"would you like some?" you shook the carton. megumi loved chocolate in any form. not wanting to sound too excited or desperate, he gave a curt nod. you poured him a cup of milk and handed it to him.

"you can sit down wherever you want."

megumi scanned the room and spotted a bean bag. he'd never seen one. he looked at you and then back at it.

"you wanna sit there? sure!" you placed a hand on his head and led him to the corner. you held his cup for him while he tried to sit. he immediately sank into the bean bag, hearing the sound of tiny malleable balls that shifted as he sat down. megumi's eyes widened as he tried not to bolt out of there. when he was settled down, he found it pretty comfortable. he liked how he could stretch his legs and sit at the same time.

"comfy, right?" you said, handing him his cup of chocolate milk. the way he held it with both hands made you want to scream in a pillow. no way that asscrack of a man was his father.

you went over the list once more. it was simple. bedtime was 9 PM, no allergies, likes sweet food, but easily gets a sugar rush, etc. you laughed at the numerous spelling mistakes in it.

"so, what do you like to do?" you asked, sitting down on the floor in front of him.

megumi didn't like talking to babysitters. mostly because they never paid attention to him. he didn't like how they bossed him around. or how they got mad when he asked them if they could play with him. so he would stay silent. nobody ever asked him what he liked to do, so your question caught him by surprise.

he thought about it. what did he like to do?

"paint..."

"you paint?" you asked. you always liked the idea of kids drawing and painting.

megumi nodded. he was obsessed with a box of paints his father had bought him ages ago. the paints were long dried and over. but he still dipped his brush into them, watering them and painting with whatever colour came out of it.

you didn't have paints or brushes that he could use... but an idea struck you and you wondered whether he'd like it.

"wanna paint my room?" you suddenly said.

megumi's eyes lit up with curiosity. won't your walls get damaged? what if he spilled paint on the floor? or on you?

"the walls in my room are sad and empty. i have some paint cans that the painters forgot about when i was renovating. there are some colours still left. what do you say?"

megumi nodded. you got up and went into your room, searching for a shirt you give him as overalls. you pulled out the paint cans from under your bed. you took an old shirt of yours and brought it to him in the living room.

megumi had finished drinking his milk, so he thought he'd keep the cup back. hearing you call his name startled him and he dropped the cup, watching it shatter into pieces. he tensed up and felt his eyes water. you were going to scold him, punish him, maybe even hit him. he deserved it. he broke your cup.

"oh my, are you okay?" you rushed to his side, crouching and checking him for wounds.

"sorry... sorr-" megumi tried his best not to cry. he was expecting an earful at any moment now.

"why?" it was all you asked.

megumi looked at you in shock.

"cup..."

you chuckled sympathetically. "so? cups break all the time."

"i break cup..."

you stood up, unsure of how to convince him that he did nothing wrong.

"okay... you broke the cup." there it was. you were angry. megumi was going to get scolded.

instead, he watched you pick another cup from the shelf. you took the cup, and angling it far from megumi, you threw it.

"and i broke a cup too. guess we're both clumsy..." you shrugged and picked up the pieces, swiping the rest with a broom and tossing them in the garbage.

megumi didn't know what to say. had he really done nothing wrong? it was just a cup... yeah, just a cup.

"come, let's paint my room," you held out your hand to him. slowly, he grabbed it, walking behind you towards your room. your hands were soft and warm. and you didn't pull him or drag him. instead you were walking slower just for him. why were you so kind?

you brought him to your room and asked him to help you spread newspapers on the floor. then you handed him a shirt, helping him put it on since it was huge for him. he looked like a penguin.

"megumi... please, i'll give you more chocolate milk, but can i please take your picture? you're too cute," you asked, clutching your heart.

megumi blushed and nodded, looking away.

you clicked at least twenty pictures of him in your shirt, holding a thick paintbrush, standing on newspaper barefoot. you made a mental note to send these to toji.

"alright, pick your colours."

megumi carefully scanned each colour. then he looked at you. he didn't want to mess up this opportunity. it wasn't every day that he got to paint a wall instead of paper. he wanted to make sure you'd like it.

you seemed the type of person who would appear stern, but on the inside, you were really soft and caring. like a marshmallow. he wanted the room to suit you. being the observant kid, he looked around the room and learned that you liked necklaces, most of which looked like fancy saturns (iykyk). you also liked flowers as there were vases on your nightstand, windowsill and some were on your bookshelves. you also had a lot of books. what really caught megumi's attention was that you had three guitars hung on the wall. your room was totally your personality. he knew what he wanted to paint.

megumi pointed to a few colours and you handed him a few brushes of different sizes. he dipped one in red paint and began painting a few strokes on the wall (only after glancing back at you a hundred times in case you changed your mind). you sat on the bed, watching him focus. he was definitely smarter than kids his age. you admired him.

after a while, you left the room, telling him that you were going to make dinner. curry rice got an approval from him, so you occupied yourself in the kitchen, humming to yourself. you wondered what all he had painted in your absence. you didn't really care about the wall; you only hoped he'd feel safe enough to be a child.

you finished cooking and plated the food, setting on the kitchen island you used as a dining table. you pulled a chair and stacked some couch pillows on it, increasing the height of the seat. you called to megumi, but he didn't answer.

you stepped into the room to call him for dinner again, but no words came from your mouth as you stared at your wall, awestruck.

megumi had painted so many flowers and vines that ran across your wall in different colours. he'd even mixed a few colours and created new ones. he drew the saturn orbs matching your jewellery in the center of some flowers. though he could only paint a part of it and couldn't reach higher, the wall looked full of life.

"megumi..."

he looked at you, anxious to hear what you had to say.

you stood behind him, admiring the wall.

"you made my wall magical. this is so beautiful!"

megumi had a tiny smile on his face.

"you're an artist, gumi" you said, ruffling his hair, and he blushed at the nickname you gave him. nobody ever gave him a nickname apart from his father. people would often forget his name.

he felt his chest swell with pride and happiness. he did a good job.

"let's put fairy lights on the wall!" you chirped and he nodded.

you helped him out of his shirt, tossing it into the laundry basket. you sat him down on the high chair and you both sat down for dinner. megumi liked the food. but he truly loved how you let him be himself without bossing him around. it finally dawned on him that he had broken your cup, painted your wall, and was eating your food and you had absolutely no problem with it. he felt himself breathe freely.

after dinner, he helped you clean the room and stick fairy lights all across your room. you went overboard with it, but when you switched them on and lay on the bed watching them twinkle, it felt worth it.

"we did a good job, today." you gave him a high five.

megumi yawned and you took it as a sign to prep him for bed. toji forgot to give you his toothbrush, so you tore him a new one. you wouldn't dare let a child sleep in the living room, so you tucked him in your bed. you were so glad you bought that expensive comforter because seeing megumi snuggle into it turned your eyes into beating hearts.

upon his request, you tucked in his ominous dog plushie with him and bid him goodnight. megumi fell asleep easily, snoring softly. you made rounds to the room to check on him and felt your heart melt every time. he was definitely an active sleeper. his positions would get bizarre every time and you'd pull the comforter on him properly each time.

you finally slept on your couch around midnight.

toji didn't sleep a wink. the world's most boring job had him awake all night, opening gates for rich snobs who partied and returned to the semi-residential building at odd hours.

the only thing on his mind was megumi. he prayed that you weren't fucking someone with him in the house. he wondered if he'd eaten. he wondered if he was asleep right now. he hoped you gave him his demon dog to sleep with.

when dawn broke, he was out of there. he drove his dying truck straight to the parking and dashed out of the car. he decided to grab his and your mail, just so he'd have an extra excuse to knock on your door.

he didn't bother asking you for a key. he just yanked open the letterbox and it easily came into his hand. he grabbed whatever was in it.

"did you hear apartment 707? so loud.... that too in the morning"

"how could i not? but, im not surprised..."

toji heard two ladies gossip, waiting for the elevator. 707... his apartment was 706, so it had to be you. he was going to murder you.

he sped in and out of the elevator, rushing to your place. expecting to hear the sound of sex, he stopped in his tracks... you were not having sex? your door was conveniently ajar and toji spotted a few empty cans of paint outside.

he opened the door, peeking in, only to see... his adorable five year old son, jumping around and dancing with you to a christmas song, decorating a large tree in your living room. (christmas tree farm by the one and only... blondie)

if toji could explain how much he wanted to giggle at the sight, he would. but he only watched the two of you, leaning against the doorframe, hands folded, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"where every wish comes true!!!" you sang, hanging the ornaments miscellaneously. megumi poked your leg and you picked him up, helping him tie a bell around a branch.

you swayed and danced to the beat with megumi on your shoulders, who laughed loudly.

toji felt his heart melt upon hearing his son laugh. he hadn't heard that sound in a long time.

he looked around and spotted a plate of half-eaten pancakes and glasses of milk. did you drink milk with him? he held back a laugh.

as you turned around, you spotted toji and nearly threw yourself in the tree.

"dad!" megumi chirped, happy to see his father. toji took it as an invitation to come inside. seeing megumi almost as tall as him, he chuckled and looked him in the eye.

"here's your ice cream, stinky," he said, holding a bag full of ice cream cups.

megumi giggled.

toji smiled widely and you sobbed at how cute the kid was. you placed him down and he ran to his father, clinging to his knee. you took the ice cream bag from toji and placed it on the kitchen counter taking the contents out.

[next song: under the tree by sam palladio]

you handed megumi a cup of chocolate ice cream and the uselessly small wooden spoon that came with it.

"which one do you want?" you asked toji who had yawned at least a dozen times by now.

"anything is fine."

you tossed him the pinkest strawberry ice cream cup. he rolled his eyes, but began eating it anyway. you sat next to him on the couch. megumi insisted on sitting under the tree, on the tree-skirt, looking up at the lights and the ornaments from below.

"oh! look!" you said, pulling your phone out to show toji pictures of little megumi in an oversized shirt holding a paintbrush.

"what's this?" toji asked. though his kid looked cute, he still didn't know what happened when he was away.

"yeah, he painted my wall," you replied.

"HE WHAT?" toji asked, surprised. megumi never misbehaved. but i guess he finally snapped.

"yeah! it's so beautiful, i can't stop staring at it," you began mumbling.

this kid ruined your walls and you're happy about it? he thought you'd scold him.

"come, i'll show you," you signalled him to follow you and toji did, worried about the mess his son had made.

he also did not want to see your room, given that he'd heard you have sex plenty of times for it to etch in his mind like a song that just doesn't fucking leave.

he was not expecting for your room to be so... pleasant and unsuspecting. you had a queen-sized bed with fluffy pillows, plants in the room, some equipment on the desk. hell, instead of sex, it smelled like coconut.

you showed him the art megumi had blessed your wall with.

"he's great at painting!"

toji's eyes widened at the intricate designs on the wall. had megumi really painted this? was he this good at it?

"it's... good..." toji didn't know what to say. he felt really sad that his son was capable of something so great and yet toji couldn't do more for him.

you smiled, somehow understanding what he was feeling. it was the same thing you felt about yourself when you realised your love for music.

toji asked you to send him the pictures and you complied. he looked around your room in silence, not knowing what to do. but he decided to address the former elephant in the room.

"can i ask you something?"

"sure," you said, looking down at your phone.

"i don't have the right to pry in your personal life, but... next time you have someone over, keep it down? i don't want megumi to hear... that..."

"huh?"

"you know... what you and your boyfriend do..."

"i don't have one?"

"then whoever you bring home to fuck... just please, keep the volume low," said toji impatiently.

"i didn't bring any... oh, you heard that!" you said as it dawned on you.

"yeah, whatever that is..." toji wanted to hide his face. it felt like giving a child 'the talk'. and you weren't that old too...

"toji..." you called, holding back your laugh. he wondered what was so funny.

"i'm not having sex in here. what you've been hearing..." you almost held it back... "was me recording for quinn."

"huh?"

you sighed as you explained, "it's an app for people who like listening to spicy stories... i'm one of their narrators... i try to pick times when people are busy or not here... but oh my god, i'm so sorry you had to hear that..." you said with a laugh, grabbing his arm apologetically.

toji digested every word you said.

"why on earth would you do that?"

"it pays really well, you know..." you shrugged.

now you had toji's attention. "you get paid for speaking dirty?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"and narrating, reading lines, moaning, whimpering, shouting... the works."

"that's an odd job..." he commented. it truly was. he had no idea things like these existed.

"i'm a singer by profession, so this is just a side hustle. my room is soundproof so i can't hear outside noises, but sadly..."

"you're not ashamed?"

"why would i be? it's great that people like it. you should try listening to some."

"please, no," toji held his palm out to her. he heard you chuckle. "aren't you worried that people might find out about you?"

"of course i don't use my real name."

toji shook his head in disbelief.

"i know you're ancient, but try it someday. who knows, you might end up liking it," you said, showing him the app on your phone.

toji stared at you with a blank face. he wasn't that behind the times, was he? he snuck a glance at your screen, his eyes falling on your username in a corner. embarrassed, he swatted your hand away and you chucked.

"anyway, thanks for looking after my kid." toji got up and left your room as you trotted behind him.

"anytime!"

toji left with megumi, after thanking you once more and making his kid do the same. megumi had definitely enjoyed he spent with you. he wished he could do it again.

a few days passed by and megumi started to become more interactive with you, waving at you, telling about his day when you rode the elevator together, giving you some small sketches he made after you gave him a sketchbook and some colour pencils.

toji still hadn't warmed up to you, but he wasn't as dismissive as he used to be. in fact, he had gotten slightly curious about you. you lived a quiet life, or so it seemed on the outside. but he knew what you did and how unbothered you were about it.

why would people pay to listen to strangers moaning? it seemed bizarre to him. he tried to ignore it.

he was stuck on another night shift, leaving megumi with you. he was glad that his son didn't mind you. and you'd proven to be a capable babysitter. yet, all he wanted was to be near his son. home. the night couldn't get over any sooner.

toji sat in the booth provided to him, watching the streets. nights when people came and went by were just as boring as when nobody showed up. he contemplated taking a nap, but the last thing he wanted was to be fired for slacking off. especially when the night shift paid him a bit more.

he turned side to side in the swivel chair, groaning in frustration. so far, he'd watched eight mma matches on his phone, cussing at how pathetic they were. nothing entertained him enough to keep him awake.

that thing embedded in his subconscious mind suddenly resurfaced, making him gulp in guilt. he could do it. it's not like she'll know... as if he was being watched, toji switched the light off in his booth and discreetly took his phone out, lowering the brightness and pulling out a tangled pair of earphones, and plugged them in. he downloaded that app, signing in with a random email he'd created ages ago.

[mention; compromised: victoria pedretti, on quinn]

he remembered her username and typed it in. not wanting to dwell too much on it, he clicked on the first 'story' he saw. he didn't read the description. he had no idea what he was to expect. thankfully, the audio started with some context. he instantly recognised your voice. based on what he understood in the first few minutes of the introductory chapter, it was a story about an agent watching over the witness she was supposed to protect. he realised that it was a woman x woman story. not that he minded. he just enjoyed listening to your voice. you surely had a singer's voice.

the more he listened, the more engrossed he was in the plot.

"i can stay on the line, sure..." you said, as your character stood below a hotel, at a distance, watching the woman you were on the phone with, from the window, keeping an eye out.

"you're not wearing anything underneath... i might not be the only person watching, you know," you chuckled. your laugh sounded better all over, probably due to the recording quality. toji paid attention to everything he heard.

"...tell me where you're touching...does it feel good?"

"i wanna see your other hand on your breast..."

"do you want me in that room?" your voice was laced with quick breaths...

"now i'm gonna hang up...no, not to touch myself... I don't care that you're close!"

toji sighed in exasperation, truly engrossed in the story.

"wait, shit, there is a man... fuck i think he's armed..."

toji had never clicked on 'next' that fast in his life. okay, he was hooked. when he first heard about this from you, he thought it was just audio-porn. he didn't expect a full on story with a plot, internal monologue, the background noises. it was as if it was happening around him.

the next chapter had you grunt and scream as you fought some attacker. how on earth did she record this shit? was she also fighting in the apartment? he smirked, realising what a double life she was leading.

"i saw that smirk, don't get any ideas..." you said coincidentally and toji had to look around him for a moment.

"you're very, very distracting..." your voice seemed closer whenever the background music got fainter. maybe it was the mic or some technical tweaking. but it really sounded like you were speaking in his ear.

your pants were now mixed with small laughs. it sounded blissful.

"don't ever be sorry for kissing me..." toji was surprisingly okay with hearing sounds of you kissing, probably another woman.

"oh, these lips... can i? touch them? fuck..." you moaned slightly... and then laughed. "did you just bite my thumb? you're so bad... i might have to punish you."

toji had to grasp his phone tightly as heard you make out, hearing your breaths mingled with the sounds of your lips moving against someone else's. you sounded so different, so confident.

"you like that, don't you? me on my knees... touching you, licking you, tasting you..."

fuck

toji knew you were saying this to a woman, but he couldn't help picturing himself in her place. your hums, whimpers, breaths, they were all elevating his senses. he felt his pants tighten.

"yes, fuck..."

"i love your neck..." you panted. toji raised his head, gulping.

"you're so hot... fuck... me..." your moans had started to get louder, breathier.

"what if i don't wanna hurry? what if... i wanna make you beg for it?" toji instinctively let his hand wander down his body, to his pants. he loosened his belt. he slid his pants and boxers down just enough for his dick to spring out, harder than he expected it to be. your constant moans, whimpers and dirty words became music to his ears as he stroked his cock slowly.

"tell me how good it feels..."

toji groaned, quickening his speed, his eyes closed, his mind visualising your face. he imagined you doing everything he heard you do on the phone. touching him, licking him, tasting him... he fisted his cock to the sounds of your sweet voice, shamelessly.

"so good..." he hissed, as if to answer you, gliding his fist up and down his thick veiny cock, its tip glistening proudly.

"come for me, yes! yes! yes! fuuuuck..." you moan loudly, dragging the last word, breathing shakily.

"god..." toji gave up any restraint he had and let his cock burst like a dam, spoiling his pants.

he was high. high on your voice, your moans, your words. he wished he could experience it for the first time again.

a shrieking honk from the gate snapped toji back into reality. he zipped back up in a hurry, shoving his half-hard cock in his pants. he tied a jacket around his waist to hide it and scurried out of the booth to open the gate.

toji came home early in the morning, feeling floaty. he couldn't forget last night's events. not when you were right there. next door. probably recording the next one. toji didn't know how he was to face you, but he was damn sure about hearing you again.

and hear you he did. for days. he was finding the plot interesting too. but he was addicted to your voice. how were you so confident? how did you manage to record the perfect moans. did you have help? did you get off just to get a good audio? all these questions plagued toji's mind. he really wanted to ask you about it.

but how was he to do it without sounding like a creep? or worse, a pervert? but then again, you did tell him about it yourself.

so, when he had to collect megumi from your house after coming back, he came up with the simplest excuse.

"see you later, gumi!" you ruffled his hair, watching him run to his father, who told him to go inside and wait for him.

before you could shut the door, he shoved his foot inside. "hey, uh... i had a question."

"come in..." you moved aside.

you were hungry, but didn't have the time to buy groceries. so, instant ramen it was...

toji followed you to the kitchen, rehearsing the imminent conversation in his head.

"what's wrong?" you asked, looking at his tensed brow.

"i'm a little starved for cash. megumi's birthday is coming and i want to give that urchin something good this time."

"awww..."

"you uh..." was he really going to ask that? would she even listen? "you were talking about that..."

you on the other hand, knew exactly what he wanted to talk about. so many of your friends had tried to do that same. the fact that toji was considering doing that made the composer in you mildly excited.

"you want to earn cash on quinn, am i right?"

toji's head shot up, looking at you, slightly horrified and ready to get his ass kicked out the door.

"alright."

"wait, what?"

"i'll help you... sell your voice."

"are you serious?"

"do i look like i'm joking?"

"would i even... be able to... you know..."

you leaned on the kitchen island, looking at toji, who had sat down in a chair across from you.

"just do it..."

"you expect me to do it just like that?" he asked.

"what, like it's hard?" you snorted.

toji just looked at you blankly. "you mean, you do it just like that?"

"women are expert at faking it, you know?" you smirked.

toji scoffed in disbelief, rolling his eyes.

wickedly, you began panting, whimpering, opening your mouth as lewd moans spilled out of you. you gripped the edge of the kitchen island, and whined, "yes! toji! just like that!"

toji felt like he'd been shot in the head... both his heads... he felt a bulge in his pants. hearing you moan and actually seeing you moan were two different things. the way your eyes shut tight, brow creased, mouth opened and chest heaved, toji couldn't take his eyes of you.

you saw his reaction through squinted eyes and stopped, reverting to your normal self, scratching the back of your head, completely unbothered.

"so yes, toji... just like that..." you said, without the moans this time.

toji gulped.

"so, do you wanna record a demo? i can send it to my agent. if she likes it, she'll ask you to record a proper script."

toji sighed... what was he getting into? he didn't actually imagine himself doing it. would it be embarrassing? no, fuck it. he could really use the extra cash.

"no one can know," he said sternly.

"you can use a pseudonym. you can literally put an emoji as your name."

"whatever. as long as nobody can trace it back to me."

"i guarantee you they won't. let's send an anonymous demo, 'kay?"

"fine. but, i don't know how to do this shit. it's too... fucking dumb."

you chuckled. "it is. dumb and fun. but doesn't it make you feel... like a king, knowing that the world gets off to your voice?"

toji scoffed and smirked. oh, how he wished she knew that he had been getting off to her voice nearly every damn night, palming his dick, picturing you saying all those dirty things to him.

he followed you to your bedroom where you had set up your mic, your laptop, you desk, under a labyrinth of wires and cables. he was made to sit in the chair facing the mic. the fuck am i doing...

you tapped on your laptop, leaning forward on the desk. toji's hammering anxiety took a break when he realised how close you were. your tits were practically in his face. he'd only ever seen you in baggy clothing, so this was a pleasant surprise. they were big. but they'd easily fit in his hands. he was a little disgusted by the fact that he was severely attracted to you.

"okay... what would you like to say?"

"i don't know..."

"what are your go-to swear words?"

"uh... fuck?"

"and?"

"i don't swear because of my kid... so, i don't know... this is difficult, y/n..."

"what do you have to fear?"

she was right. what was he to lose? to fear? nothing. he knew how hot was. he knew ladies threw themselves at him. he knew his sex appeal was impeccable. so then why was this so difficult?

oh, he knew why. you. it was because of you. the way he'd listened to your moans all week, stealing glances at you whenever he saw you, and now that he was in your bedroom with you...

fuck that! this bitch just faked an orgasm in front of me without a problem. i can at least spit out a few sentences.

"how do you start?"

"well, i usually have a script and there's good enough build up."

"so, give me one of your scripts."

"really? you wanna say, 'touch my pussy'?"

"fuck no. ugh, this is frustrating," he groaned loudly, leaning back and running his hands through his hair.

"hey, wait, that's good!"

"huh?"

"say it again."

"this... is frustrating?"

"tojiiiii," you rolled your eyes and smacked his arm. "say it like you did before. with the groan and all."

"i can't just do it on command."

"do you want me to leave you here alone with a gravure magazine then?"

toji's narrowed his eyes at her. "you read those?"

"no, but, you get the point."

toji sighed. you thought of another way to get him riled up. if a sexy audio wasn't gonna happen, then an angry one it was... there were plenty of angsty stories in demand. you clicked on record without him knowing.

"stop acting like a virgin, toji," you said and he shot you a glare. you let your mouth run a marathon, "no, for real, you're a grown ass man with a nice, deep voice. you look like you'd be pissed off if someone so much as looks at you wrong. or worse, if someone tries to mess with your son-"

"watch your mouth," toji growled, grabbing your jaw with his fingers, pressing it tightly.

"or what?"

"or you regret ever letting me in this house. that kid fucking loves you. you keep him out of this. do not... ever use him... to use me," he snarled.

you pressed the spacebar to stop recording. toji pulled his hand back, putting two and two together.

"that... was something."

"i mean it."

"sorry... but damn, angry toji... is sexy..." you commented.

"yeah? you like that?" toji said with a smirk. you squealed, regretting not recording that.

"SAY THAT AGAIN." you began recording again.

toji let out a deep chuckle. "you want me to say that again, pretty girl?" oh, he was starting to get into it.

you nodded.

"beg for it..." toji whispered, slightly closer to the mic. he watched you hold back another squeal.

"use your words, baby."

you were almost jumping up and down at how good he sounded. you really wanted to use his voice. you figured your agent would ignore yours and focus on his.

you exhaled, "please, please say it again!"

"hmm..." toji's baritone voice reverberated in the mic. "that doesn't sound so convincing, princess..."

you banged the air above the desk, pursing your lips and grinned.

"please please please! i'll do anything!"

oh, toji was starting to see the fun in it. "anything, you say..."

"yes! whatever you say!" you too were blending well with him.

"get on your knees then, baby..." he said brusquely.

your jaw dropped, morphing into a wide smile as you silently cheered him. toji found your reactions entertaining. true, you'd been doing this longer than him, so you were probably used to hearing all that. you were genuinely enjoying him.

you gave him a thumbs up and he made his closing statement, making sure to murmur, "good girl..."

you stopped recording and grabbed toji by his shoulders, shaking him. "AAARRRRGGGH. you are a natural!!!!!"

toji smirked. that was oddly easy to do. mostly because you helped him into it.

"well, i'm not one to brag..."

"no, please brag."

"heh. do you think your agent will like it?"

"she will eat it. she will want to become it."

"how much do you make exactly?" he asked.

"i had to do a lot of small freebies until i got my big break. i made [good amount] per episode. i've done three stories, each with two to three chapters. im working on a fourth one... so it's incomplete."

that must have been the one toji had listened to the first time. he did click the first thing he saw. he'd been replaying the first three episodes over and over, coming undone to them. but now that you'd said there were more...

"that's actually very..."

"rich, right? i was surprised too."

"so, you're gonna send it to your agent now?"

"yep. she'll like it. under what name do you want it?"

toji thought about it. he couldn't have this traced back to him. not with megumi's life at risk. it had to be something entirely random. yet meaningful...

"how about... 707?"

you grinned. that was a smart pseudonym. "done."

"well... tell me how it goes. and once again... not a word about this in public. what happens in this room, stays in this room," he warned you.

"WAIT SAY THAT AGAIN!"

toji chuckled as he stood up to leave and rejoin his son. before he did, he inched closer to you and whispered in your ear, "beg for it, babygirl."

you groaned and flapped your hands, fanning yourself. "you're so good at this!"

you'd sent that clip to your agent and got a response from her a few days later. to say the least, you were surprised by her request.

so, you stood at toji's door, phone in hand. he opened it.

"'sup?"

"it's my agent."

toji shut the door behind him, not wanting megumi to hear anything.

"what'd she say?"

you simply held out your phone and the text she sent you.

'WHO IS THAT?' 'GIRL LOCK THAT MAN IN THE BASEMENT' 'he's got the job if he wants it. i just got a killer script! the only condition is'

toji raised an eyebrow at the last message.

'you both have to do it together'

#toji fushiguro #toji #fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x y/n #smut #megumi #Quinn #spicy #neighbours #asmr #jujutsu kaisen

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hancocksspouse · 3 months ago

Text

Not him slipping up and calling Doll his ‘wife’ 🥺

Sold

WARNING: DESCRIPTIONS OF TORTURE AND VIOLENCE AND DEATH. IF YOU ARE EASILY UPSET OR UNCOMFORTABLE WITH DETAILED DESCRIPTIONS OF HARM, PLEASE DO NOT READ.

OTHERWISE, PLEASE ENJOY THE IDEA OF AN ANGRY HANCOCK READY TO RIP A MAN APART FOR HIS 'WIFE'.

Hancock wouldn’t consider himself a cruel man. In fact, he hated cruelty. Didn't see a point in cruelty unwarranted.

But if you were to ask him right now about it as he stared unfeeling holes into the man strapped to the chair before him that was struggling to collect himself while he tried to ignore the splinters that had been hammered beneath 2 of his nails, he'd admit he could be pushed to it under the right circumstances.

He learned at a young age how to get in and out of Diamond City unseen. Even had a full body outfit specifically for the occasions when he followed Doll into town, which he did often. With McDonough still in charge and prejudice running alive and well through the city, it wasn't often he left Doll to be alone there. It was no secret she wasn't a fan of people's behaviors towards ghouls and synths. Made it clear to plenty of people that she did not think highly of people that treated anyone lesser for being different rather than use their actions and behaviors as a basis.

So when a 'brief stop' at Home Plate turned into a full on missing person's case, it didn't take him long to figure out what may have happened. The panic that had settled in his stomach when she never came back out from Diamond City and he found signs of struggle in her house was only amplified when he got Valentine to help him look and confirm that there was not only a fight, but somehow, whoever broke in managed to sneak her out of the city without any eye witnesses. He almost didn't believe him but Diamond City jail was completely empty and despite her personal beliefs, many citizens still held a respect for her enough to notice if something happened to her.

Valentine knew that nothing he could say to him would ease what was festering in his chest and he wasn't going to attempt it. Even a blind man could see the feelings he had developed for his companion over the time they had been traveling together and he knew how dangerous a man in love could be. Hancock alone was already a force to be reckoned with. Put his heart into it, it's a whole new monster.

"I know I can't change your mind on whatever it is you're going to do, but at least give me a little time to point you in the right direction", he said, offering Hancock a cigarette as he lit his own while they stood in Doll's house together. "Don't need to get anyone involved unnecessarily". Hancock almost rejected the offer, but knew he needed whatever help he could get. McDonough wasn't going to help and his Diamond City security cronies were useless. Instead, he nodded slowly, taking the offered cigarette.

"I'll give you til tonight. If you got nothin', I'm doin' it my way. Meet me back here in Home Plate", he said, breathing out a cloud of smoke. The calmness he responded to Valentine with was eerie and he knew he meant what he said. He knew what him handling business would look like and he simply nodded in response.

"I'll take it".

True to his word, come nightfall, they were once again at Home Plate, the mask of Hancock's disguise set atop the table as he took a breath in, not used to having to hide behind such a heavy piece of clothing.

"Traveling caravan was let in not too long before she went missing. They were seen wandering in, but no one recalls doing any trading with them, only them taking a large container out of Diamond City. I'd bet caps it was her. One of the security guards had also been seen both in Home Plate and helping the caravan load the container, so there's an inside man", he says, a frown on his face while looking at the mess left behind in her normally put together base. Hancock's eyes lower into a glare.

"Sounds to me like you're insinuating McDonough set it all up", he says, leaning forward against his knees. Valentine shakes his head.

"I'm not gonna say one way or another, but nothing comes in or goes out of Diamond City without him knowing and there's no solid proof he had a hand in it. A corrupt politician isn’t something unheard of. You and I both know that. But the theories will have to take a chair for now. The security guard that was seen is currently stationed out at the gate tonight", he says as he looks over the clearly distressed mayor.

"A large container, huh? That's not soundin' too promising either, detective". The edge in his voice is very audible and Valentine can't help the discomfort he's feeling at the idea of what it'll be like being on the receiving end of his ire once he gets a hold of that guard.

"You know her better than that, Hancock. She's not giving up that easily, nor is she going to make it easy for them. I'm sure of it. Just...don't tell me what happens to that guard, alright?" he asks him and Hancock gives a nod, thinking to himself for a moment before standing up and sliding his mask back on.

"Ya know what? That's fair, Nicky. You did more than you had to and I ain't gonna forget that". He pats his shoulder. "Thanks. A lot. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe they got somethin' of mine". Hancock doesn't see the confused look on Nick's face as he passes and by the time he realizes what exactly he means, he's already shutting the door behind him, heading back out to the gates of the city.

Getting the guard alone and subdued is light work for Hancock, leading them to their current situation, a nonchalant, unamused, unimpressed Hancock leaned against a wall while the guard in question struggles to calm down and mentally regroup as wooden splinters firmly jut from beneath his fingernails. He struggles against his binds but Hancock has him firmly bound to the chair and all he has done is tired himself out more.

"Now, let's try this one more time, brother. This time, without lyin' to me, yea?", he says, slowly strolling over to the man as he tosses the hammer aside onto the table he has set up. An array of different objects and weapons are strewn across the top, most of which were for intimidation, but Hancock is all too ready and willing to use everything he's got and even make things up if he has to. He takes a handful of the man's hair in hand and yanks his head back, forcing him to look up at him as he continues to sputter and whine.

"I-I s-swear I-I-I don't know wh-what you're talking about", he cries, his breathing ragged and rushed but Hancock shakes his head and sighs.

"See, I'm afraid I don't believe that, friend. And do you know why?" he asks, casually pulling his trusty knife from his pocket and dragging it against his cheek. The panicked guard looks from the knife to him and carefully shakes his head no.

"B-but I-"

CRACK

A bright red hand print quickly appears on his cheek and he yelps at the impact before once again being yanked into Hancock's line of sight.

"Before you even try to lie to me again, I'll tell you. I don't believe that because you were seen. Ain't that crazy?"

Hancock is toying with the man, but his patience is quickly wearing thin and his temper is getting the best of him because his knife soon begins to trace against the man's thigh.

"Now. I'mma share a little fun fact with you, brother. You're gonna love it, I learned it from Doctor Amari. Smart woman. Taught me a few interesting things here and there. Did you know that you have three arteries in your thigh that if cut, could cause you to bleed out and die? Wild stuff", he says, the tip of the blade resting above where his femoral artery would be found.

"W-w-wait! Waitwaitwait, j-just h-hold on-", the man quickly stutters out and Hancock smirks a bit, pocketing the knife.

"Well well well, looks like someone's ready to sing?" he says. The man struggles and whines, fighting between his brain and the pain and Hancock frowns and reaches down, tapping one of the splinters in farther and the man lets out a scream that bleeds into sobs.

"ALRIGHT ALRIGHT! YOU'RE RIGHT! WE TOOK HER!", he cries out, the tears mixing with sweat and blood. "We-we took her".

Hancock nods with a chuckle and pulls up a chair in front of him, flipping it around and seating himself, leaning against the back of it.

"Keep talkin', brother. Now, we're gettin' somewhere".

The man hiccups and sputters before catching his breath and swallowing.

"W-we were told t-to get h-her o-out of Diamond C-city. Stage i-it to look like a break i-in and s-sell her off to r-raiders head-ding out towards N-Nuka W-World", he manages to say. Hancock frowns.

"Keep goin'", he says, rising from his chair.

"M-Mayor McDonough d-didn't like wh-what sh-she was saying about h-him and thought sh-she w-would make people ch-change their minds about th-the anti-ghoul d-decree and start trying to m-motivate p-people t-to let ghouls a-and synths into the c-city, so he paid o-off some r-raiders to come in as a c-caravan to get h-her".

Hancock stands quietly for a long time, processing what he's heard while staring dead eyed at the man, making him begin to cry again until his footsteps make him look back up at him and when he sees the knife in his hand again, he begins to sob once more.

"I just got one more question for you, brother", Hancock says, once again pulling his head back by his hair and resting his blade against his adam's apple. The blank abyss of Hancock's eyes convinces the guard he's about to die and he can do nothing but cry, unable to break eye contact.

"Where. Is. My. Wife?!"

Her vision has been dark for a span of time she is unsure of and her head has been swimming so much, she only just realizes there's both a bag on her head and she's bound, her body uncomfortably scrunched up in something being carried. A pain shoots through her head and she feels something wet on her scalp that has managed to drip down to her eyelid, making her think to what happened before her current predicament, but her thoughts are cut short when she feels everything stop suddenly and muffled voices sound off around her. The darkness around her shifts and she feels herself getting pushed out of whatever it was she was contained in, a grunt leaving her as she hits the ground and pain racks through her body.

"Huh. This one seems a bit younger than the ones ya'll usually send our way", she hears one say before she's shifted up onto her knees and the bag on her head is yanked off, making her growl a bit before a hand catches her chin and pulls her to look forward, the frown on her face met by what she assumes is a raider in armor she's not seen before. Metal sheets fashioned into what could almost be considered plate armor sits latched onto what looks to actually be a nice suit beneath. Instead of the normal plaque mouthed, grimy raiders she's used to seeing, this one and his companions are actually quite clean and well put together, putting her more on edge than normal.

"Who the fuck are you?", she growls out, making the man smirk a bit.

"A bit foul mouthed but nothing we can't 'fix'", he says as his companion hands him what looks to be a collar over his shoulder and a panic sweeps over her as she looks around. A brahmin sits to the side, the container she's sure she was in open on it's side. It's night time and they're camped on the side of a road she can't readily see at the moment. "Now, hold still, dollface. This'll only take a moment", the raider says, reaching around her to put the collar on. She quickly lurches forward and headbutts him in his nose, a sickening crunch sounding off as they hear it break and he stumbles backwards, dropping the collar and holding his face. "You fuckin' BITCH!"

His companions go to hold her still and she rolls over to her back, managing to kick one in the gut before the other one manages to get around her kicking and hold her down as she keeps struggling.

"Fuckin' hold still, you little shit!", the raider gripes at her, punching her and busting her lip open. Blood begins spilling down her chin and once again, the collar comes back into view as they try to get it on her. "You make this harder than it needs to be and your life is gonna get way fuckin' harder than it needs to, got that?"

Panic takes her over as they try to once again latch the collar onto her and she jerks her head to the side, sinking her teeth into their hand as hard as she can. She can feel the skin beneath her teeth break under the pressure and the raider tries to shake her off, punching her in the head and yelling and when a molotov suddenly crashes against the back of the raider that took her out of Diamond City, everyone in the group is quickly armed as they look through the dark for the source of the explosive, leaving the flaming raider to fend for himself and fight off the fires on his own.

"Who the fuck is out there?!"

No response comes but another molotov soars through the air and cracks near the brahmin, scaring the beast and causing it to begin running in a panic. In it's frenzy to get away, it ploughs through the burning raider and tramples him, leaving him to bleed out and burn as it runs away and the rest of the raiders to scatter before a shot fires and one of the well dressed raiders hits the ground. The sudden shot is enough to distract them as Hancock quickly comes out from his hiding spot and swoops up behind the other, slicing their throat with alarming ease and catching the body to use as a shield once the other raiders realize he's there. They fire, riddling what would be there business associate with bullets before their rounds run dry and his shot gun blasts through ones chest while a shot from nearby takes out the other beside them. Behind them, Doll's teeth remain clamped into the last raider's hand and she's wrapped her legs around them, keeping them from running away. Witnessing their companions die, they struggle to escape but Doll manages to make sure they go nowhere as Hancock makes his way over, picking up the collar on the ground along the way.

"W-wait! You win! Just-just let me go!", he yells. Hancock says nothing, looking down at the state of his friend. She's bloody, beaten, and currently in a state of panicked frenzy. Fight or flight. She chose fight. He looks down at the collar in his hand and at the raider, who is stuck in place both by Doll and fear and he lets his feelings take over for a moment, locking the collar around the raider's neck despite how they struggle against him. "Wait! You don't know what this does! You can't do this!"

The raider's words fall on deaf ears and Hancock wraps his arm around their neck, knife in hand as he looks at Doll and reaches down to her, gently brushing his thumb against her jaw.

"Let go, sunshine. I gotcha", he says, his tone calm and kind to her, contrasting his actions. Her heavy breaths settle and she unlatches from the raider, both her blood and theirs mixing on her teeth. They attempt to struggle again but his arm tightens and the tip of his knife presses their jugular vein and they stop, shaking.

"You can't do this! Y-you don't know what this collar does-"

"Bullshit", he cuts them off with a scoff, picking them up and flinging them to the ground with his one arm as he picks up the remote that had fallen from their pocket. "You think I don't know a fuckin' bomb when I see one?"

They look up at him, not sure what else to do as they get back on their feet and begin running. He lets them get a little distance before rolling his eyes and hitting the detonator, their head disappearing suddenly into a fine red mist. The remote is thrown off to the side while Valentine makes his way from his point of cover to join them, Hancock already making quick work of her bindings. She rubs her wrists and wipes the blood from her chin before her eyes come up to meet his as he kneels down to her, brushing her hair from her face to assess the wounds.

"Like I said. She wasn't gonna make it easy for them", Nick says, looking at the mess left behind. Hancock chuckles a bit and shakes his head, carefully helping her stand up with him and pulling her to lean against his taller frame. His hold on her starts off gentle but slowly tightens more and more as the relief of her being safe hits him and the stress of the situation finally settles. Her face pushes against his chest and into the familiar red of his jacket while his leans down into her black hair.

"I'm sorry I didn't make it sooner, sister", he says, a slight waver in his voice. "I never woulda thought McDonough would've had the stones to do some underhanded shit like this. I swear when we get back-", but she shakes her head, stopping him.

"No. Don't", she says. His eyes glance down to her and a frown settles on his features.

"Doll, he set you up to be kidnapped and sold to raiders in fuckin' Nuka World-"

"He's also the mayor of a large town in the commonwealth and I'm fairly certain this was set up in a manner that leaves little to no evidence behind proving he did any of that. We can't stir the pot like that just yet, or it'll have a repercussion we're not ready to face. Too many people still support him and with everyone knowing my opinions, they're gonna just think I'm causing trouble".

Valentine frowns, looking up at them from his cigarette before shaking his head.

"She's right. McDonough has too much of a faithful following. We'd just be rattling the cage", he says, a clear note of disappointment in his voice. Hancock growls quietly to himself, knowing they're right.

"Besides, I'm pretty sure him seeing I'm still around and escaped will be enough of a message to him to watch his next steps", she says in an attempt to reassure him. He looks down at her for a moment, the frown still fixed to his face but he soon slowly nods to her.

"Alright, sunshine. We'll play it your way. For now", he says, simply holding her for the moment.

It goes without saying they don’t go anywhere near Diamond City as they walk away from said tussle. Nick follows along with them to Goodneighbor to make sure they make it back safely.

“I appreciate the help, Nicky”, Hancock says, shaking his hand at the door of the state house. He shakes his head.

“Of course. Anytime”. He breathes out a cloud of smoke and thinks for a moment before he looks back up at him. “Before I go…I gotta ask…the guard…is he…”

Hancock shakes his head no.

“He’s alive. Can’t promise he’s the same or that he’ll ever be the same anymore, but he’s alive. Should be back in Diamond City by now, if he went back”. He’s very detached and nonchalant about the man he tortured only hours ago and Nick raises a brow.

“Can’t really say you have any regrets about it, can you?” He pokes and Hancock simply shrugs.

“Shoulda kept his hands off my wife. Anyway, be safe gettin’ back”, he says, heading inside to tend to Doll’s wounds.

Confusion briefly washes over the synth detective but once he gives it a moment of thought, he simply chuckles and begins his trek back to Diamond City.

It’s late into the night by the time Hancock settles down and Doll is passed out, her head rested in his lap as they take up the couch together. His hand gently rubs against her hair and scalp while his mind wanders, a canister of jet in his opposite palm as he thinks.

He said it. Twice today. Said it and meant it and didn’t feel weird about it at all.

Wife.

He was never one to settle down or dedicate to just one person.

But…

This was different. Had been since they agreed to start traveling together like this. And the idea didn’t seem like a loss of freedom. Just felt like the idea of having someone to be free with.

His eyes look down towards her and fall on her left hand rested in front of her face. The pale tan line wrapped around her finger where her wedding band used to sit.

He wonders if perhaps he could ever put something in it’s place.

———

I’ve been sitting on this one for a hot minute, I’ve just been disgustingly busy but I loved this so much 😩

Big shoutout to @hibernatingpossum for the great idea! I saw it and fell in love with it and I’m glad you enjoyed it, friend!

🖤🖤🖤

-Hancock’s Spouse

#fallout 4 #fallout #hancock #john hancock #fo4 #fallout hancock #hancock fo4 #fallout companions #ghoul husband #fallout fanfiction #fallout 4 john hancock #fallout oc #fallout 4 companions #fallout 4 fanfiction

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melpomenelamusa · 3 months ago

Text

Nothing is what it seems - Part 1

~Original story~

Febuwhump DAY 5: Not trusting reality

CW: Implied kidnapping, bound and gagged, torture, blood and injury, not trusting own mind.

Gabriel wasn’t sure where he was.

The last thing he remembered was taking his medication before bed, lying down, and… Suddenly, he had woken up. But he no longer felt the comfort of his mattress, the softness of his pillow, or the warmth of his sheets. To begin with, he wasn’t even lying down anymore.

Gabriel was sitting on a wooden chair, his back bound to its hard, straight backrest with ropes. These also wrapped around his ankles and wrists, tying them to the chair’s legs and armrests, preventing him from moving and making his attempts to struggle useless and painful. He was wearing nothing but his underwear.

He couldn’t see anything around him, even with his eyes open. His vision was obscured by a thick cloth tied over his eyes. Inside his mouth, according to what his tongue could detect, was a piece of rough fabric, which he couldn’t spit out due to the rag wedged between his teeth and tied behind his head.

No matter how much Gabriel screamed and struggled, it was all in vain. Somehow, he had been kidnapped from his own house—his own bedroom! But how was that even possible? The Hacienda was a secure place, with guards watching the entrances 24/7. No stranger was allowed in, and none of the workers or peasants living nearby would dare lay a finger on the Patrón’s son, let alone think about kidnapping him.

"This is a nightmare. I must be dreaming," he told himself, trying to steady his breathing. It was surely just stress that had triggered these memories in his mind, producing a fictional image of his fears and forcing him to relive them. It would only be a passing fright.

However, for something that was supposedly a product of his imagination, Gabriel had to admit that the rope digging into his wrists and the pressure of the gag against the corners of his mouth and tongue felt uncomfortably real.

"So, you’re finally awake," a rough voice suddenly said. Gabriel didn’t recognize the deep male voice that spoke from somewhere in front of him, but for some reason, it felt vaguely familiar. Perhaps a voice from his past, long forgotten. Perhaps it was his own fear, desperately searching for something familiar in this incomprehensible situation.

Fingers grabbed onto his brown hair and yanked his head back, making him let out a muffled groan.

"Not feeling so high and mighty now, huh?" the voice continued. "You’re not so powerful anymore. Maybe this way, you’ll learn a lesson in humility."

Gabriel swallowed hard. This was still just a dream, right? What was really happening? What did this person want?

His train of thought was interrupted when something sharp pierced his right calf. Gabriel let out a muffled scream, weak and stifled by the cloth in his mouth.

"Just one stab is enough to make you scream?" the voice mocked. "Then you’re not going to enjoy the rest of this hour."

A second stab dug into his exposed skin and muscle, a little higher than the previous wound. Gabriel screamed again, thrashing against his restraints and shaking his head. This wasn’t a dream. It didn’t feel like a dream. And if it was, it felt far too real—too horrifyingly real. He just wanted to wake up and escape.

"Don’t think too much about it," the voice murmured, hot against his ear. The stranger spoke with a nearly personal disdain. Gabriel didn’t know who the voice belonged to, but he knew he had heard it before. And he also knew, for some reason, that this person hated him.

"Mmmnhh… Mmnh."

He tried to plead, but a sadistic chuckle was the only response.

"Shhh, just focus on your pain."

A third stab followed.

Gabriel woke up with a start, sweat clinging to his skin. He was in his bed. The soft glow of the morning sun was beginning to seep through the curtains of his room. Two knocks sounded against his door.

"Young Master, are you alright? Breakfast is ready."

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, confused. He felt exhausted, his body aching. He had taken his pills before bed, and then… Suddenly, he remembered: the pain, the scent of blood, his own torn screams with each new stab.

He looked at his body. There was no trace of blood on his skin or his sleepwear—nothing to indicate that he hadn’t just been peacefully sleeping in his bed all night. Anyone else would have sighed in relief at such evidence, concluding that the terrifying, violent memory had been nothing but a mere nightmare.

But Gabriel wasn’t so sure anymore.

He had awakened his regenerative powers only a couple of weeks ago.

No one at the Hacienda knew, not even his parents, but he had already confirmed that his healing abilities were truly fast and effective, leaving his body pristine, as if nothing had ever happened in the first place.

If he had truly been injured in the middle of the night and now it was already past dawn, it was more than enough time for his body to heal and return to normal. Not even five stab wounds in each leg, the blows, or the burns from the rope against his wrists and ankles would be able to exist now.

In other words, Gabriel had no way of knowing whether what had happened last night had been real or not.

"Thank you, Margarita," he said, noticing the hoarseness in his voice. "I’ll be out in a moment."

Gabriel put on a robe and some decent shoes. He didn’t want to keep his parents waiting at the table. As he walked toward the door of his room, something on the tiled floor caught his attention: a small, dark red circle with irregular edges. A dried drop of blood.

A shiver ran down his spine as the terrifying parting words of his mysterious torturer echoed in his mind:

"Get ready, Gabriel Montalvo. This is only the beginning of your well-deserved and righteous hell."

#febuwhump #febuwhump2025 #febuwhumpday5 #kidnapping whump #bound and gagged whumpee #whump #whump community #whump writing #original story #original whump #original writing #my writing #whumblr

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fairytales-and-folklore · 2 months ago

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She Has A Type (And It's Bad But Sad Boys)

The Owl House » Huntlow

Title: She Has A Type (And It's Bad But Sad Boys)

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: The Owl House (Masterlist)

Relationship: Hunter | The Golden Guard x Willow Park

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: Whenever he's with Willow, he feels like a normal teenage boy. Not Caleb. Not the Golden Guard. Not the Emperor's right hand man. Just Hunter, normal teenage boy, doing normal teenage things, like having a scroll and joining a sports team and sneaking out late at night to go see a pretty girl. He's just Hunter, and for the first time in his life, that feels like enough.

"So Willow, what is your type?" Luz asks, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. Willow hums, thinking it over. "Cute. Funny. Clever. Likes to read," she says, ticking each quality off on her fingers. Hunter glances up from his book and locks eyes with her, waiting on baited breath. Willow's smile takes on a fiery determination as she looks directly at him and says, "What was that phrase you used that one time, Luz? Bad but sad boy? Also, face scars are kinda hot." There's a loud crash from the opposite end of the table, the contents of Hunter's food tray scattered across the cafeteria floor in one unfortunate slip of his elbow. But Hunter doesn't seem to care. He's far too busy staring at Willow, bits of spaghetti hanging from the curls and cowlicks of his fluffy blond hair, face redder than a bard sigil, eyes wide and hopeful.

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It starts with a game of flyer derby.

Hunter is on the lookout for new recruits, a self-assigned task (no matter what he might insist otherwise — for Titan's sake, the last thing Darius wants to do on his one day off is babysit a bunch of teenagers) to prove his worth and earn the right to wear the sigil of the Golden Guard.

After striking out a half dozen times with his "fellow classmates" (in a shocking turn of events, Hunter discovers that teens are not, in fact, into the same things as him, like authority and rules — huh, weird) Hunter comes across a poster advertising for the enlistment of the best and the brightest, and knows he's found his ticket.

So, after sneaking into Hexside and digging around in the lost and found until he's secured a suitable disguise, Hunter heads out onto the field to try out for the flyer derby team. He has a fully-formed, foolproof plan that immediately goes to shit the moment he sees a pretty girl dressed in green.

Willow's just selected the second-to-last member of her team when she sees him walking toward her across the field, a confident swagger to his stride. He must be new, because Willow definitely would have remembered seeing him around school before. Her eyes do a full sweep as he approaches her, sizing him up. He's tall — cute — blond — cute — dressed in gold, so he's clearly in the potions track — and he's really cute, Willow's useless one-track mind supplies.

Willow shakes off the thought, reminding herself to focus. She's here to build a team, not flirt with the new guy. (Even though this is exactly how her dads met…and then started dating…and then got married…and then had her. Shut up, stupid brain.)

"Hey there! I'm Willow Park, future captain of Hexside's first flyer derby team," she announces with a bright, self-assured smile, reaching out to grasp both of his hands in a friendly shake.

His hands are big, nearly twice the size of hers, clad in a pair of worn leather gloves that extend a little past his wrists. Strange, most students don't normally wear gloves — maybe he's a little sensitive to some of the potions ingredients he has to work with? Willow makes a mental note to ask if he's allergic to any plants — after all, if they're going to be seeing each other regularly, she doesn't want to risk setting him off.

Whoah there, let's not be hasty, Willow has to remind herself. You haven't even seen him fly yet.

"I don't think I've seen you around here before," she says, aiming for casual curiosity. "You're a new student, right? What's your name?" she asks, and suddenly, Hunter has no idea.

"Uh…" he falters, glancing around wildly for help, which arrives in the form of his little cardinal palisman, who lands on his shoulder and whispers a name Hunter swears he's heard somewhere before.

"Caleb?" he asks softly, and receives a gentle tug on his forelock for his troubles, followed by a chiding chirrup reminding him of where he is and what he's supposed to be doing. Oh, right. Hunter shakes his head, filing the question away for future perusal.

He glances back to find Willow looking up at him expectantly, sunlight glinting off her gold-framed glasses, making her eyes sparkle like emeralds, and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

"I'm Caleb!" he exclaims — because, well, he's already said it aloud, so he might as well commit.

"Caleb, uh…Jasper…Bloodwilliams," he bullshits, eyes scanning his surroundings in the hope that it'll help him come up with a believable backstory.

"I just transferred from, uh…" Hunter's eyes land on one of his potential future teammates — a healing track student affectionately scratching the belly of an enormous griffin, sprawled out on the grass meticulously bathing its back paws.

"…The Toes?" he finishes lamely, wincing in anticipation of the pretty girl with the gorgeous green eyes calling him out on his obvious lie.

But Willow just keeps on grinning at him with that smile made of sunshine, pointer finger absentmindedly curling around a lock of hair that's come loose from one of her braids. It's an exceptionally lovely shade of black, almost blue in the sunlight, giving it the effect of a starless night sky. Hunter's fingers twitch with the strangest urge to reach out and tuck it back behind her ear.

"Cool," she says with a casual little shrug of her shoulders, accepting him and his dumb little fabricated backstory just like that, and Hunter breathes a sigh of relief.

"So, first thing's first: can you fly?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest and surveying him with an appraising look that, for some unfathomable reason, makes Hunter want to puff out his chest and make himself look as tall and broad as possible. On cue, Flapjack transforms into a staff, which Hunter attempts to twirl in a confident and flashy manner, only to end up smacking himself in the head with it.

"Oh yeah, I fly pretty girl," he says, cocky smirk slipping off his face the moment that one brain cell that isn't honed in on impressing the Captain catches his slip of the tongue, eyes wide with horror as he splutters over his course-correction. "Pr— pretty good! Pretty good. Good. Fly good. Pretty good. I fly pretty good. That's what I meant to— yeah."

Willow bites her lower lip to suppress a bout of flustered giggles, hoping she can pass off the sudden warmth in her cheeks as sunburn. Well, at least her dumb little crush is mutual.

"Okay then," she says, saving him from making an even bigger fool of himself (however charming that might be.) "Let's see you in action."

At her command, Clover transforms into a staff, and Willow takes to the sky. It takes Hunter a few seconds to register the fact that she's just asked him to do something, still reeling from the utter embarrassment of his verbal vomit, but then he's slipping into combat mode, a smile curling across his face as he mounts his staff and follows after her.

The Captain is fierce, clever, and graceful as she tears through the sky, leading him on a wild chase across the school grounds, the two of them weaving seamlessly between goal posts and turrets alike.

Hunter has always prided himself on his efficiency, on his special ability to bolt through the air like a flash of lightning with a simple swish of his staff, but Willow is the first person he's ever met who could truly give him a run for his money. Every time he thinks he's got her moves all figured out, she surprises him, dodging him at the very last second and speeding several paces ahead.

It's a rush like nothing he's ever felt before, being up in the air like this, no heavy cloaks or fitted masks to weigh him down, wind whipping through his hair, kissing rosy chill-bitten cheeks aching from the effort of smiling so hard.

After a particularly skillful dodge, Hunter has to take a moment to catch his breath, slipping off one of his gloves to card his fingers through his sweat-slick hair, and watches as Willow whips back around, triumphant smile melting into something softer, lips pulling into a surprised little oh that sends a spark of adrenaline right through Hunter's heart.

He seizes his chance while she's distracted, shifting through the sky in a burst of bright gold as he reappears right behind her, snatching the little green flag from the back of her staff.

"That was amazing!" she exclaims, breathless and smiling as the two of them touch back down onto the ground.

"Welcome to the team, Caleb," she says, holding out a hand for him to shake, and ignoring the rush of heat that surges through her when he takes it in his ungloved hand.

Hunter smiles back at her, marveling at how soft and small her hand feels against his bare skin, and suddenly, all of his reasons for wanting her to join the Emperor's Coven are very selfish. Maybe, once she's gone through basic training, they'll be able to see each other on a regular basis.

"Glad to be here, Captain," he replies, feeling lighter than he has in weeks.

• • •

Hunter stares down at his brand new scroll, screen lit up with the missive hello_willow is typing, heart jackhammering to the beat of those three little jumping dots as he awaits her response to half a novel's worth of an apology, written in all caps and a couple of misplaced punctuation marks, because, as it turns out, Hunter is absolute dragon shit at typing.

He fucked up very badly today, and he knows he fucked up very badly, because this is hands down the worst he's ever felt. Which is truly a remarkable feat, considering Eclipse Lake wasn't the first time he'd contemplated digging his own grave. Hell, he'd chuck himself straight into the Boiling Sea if he thought it would do him any good, but for some reason, heat doesn't seem to affect him. (Unless he's in the presence of a certain flyer derby captain.)

So yeah, suffice it to say, Hunter is not feeling good about tricking the Captain and their fellow teammates into coven recruitment. Every time he closes his eyes, he's haunted by the way she'd looked in that holding cell — this strong, fierce, powerful witch crumbling under the weight of her own insecurities, admonishing herself with the same moniker Hunter has always used to shame himself, the words I'm just half-a-witch Willow playing like a nightmare loop inside his head. The way she'd stood there, glaring at him in defiance, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes as he'd begged her to get herself and her fellow teammates to safety.

He only hopes that his willingness to jump in front of them, to shield them from the wrath of a powerful coven head, had been enough to prove his contrition. And maybe, just maybe, it had, because—

After all, it'll be fifty-two weeks before Caleb's next day off.

That had to mean something, right?

Maybe if he reached out to her, made a formal apology, showed her that he regrets his actions and wants to make amends, she'd be willing to give him another chance. After all, she'd been willing to forgive him when he'd opened his big stupid mouth and made a snap judgment, calling the others pathetic before he'd even seen them in action. Maybe he could get lucky twice in one day.

Ugh. He really was two for two, and he hadn't even known her a full twenty-four hours. Hunter wonders just how far her patience extends, whether she'd be kind enough to bestow it on some idiot boy with zero social skills twice in the span of a single afternoon.

At the very least, he has to try. And so, within minutes of making his new Penstagram account (with the help of an exceedingly exasperated Darius) he'd searched for the Captain's profile, sucked a nervous breath through the gap in his two front teeth, and messaged her. He'd spent a good fifteen minutes typing out his initial (overly formal) greeting, and the next thirty composing a long-winded speech apologizing for everything he put her through today. Now, all that was left to do was wait.

After what feels like an eternity of watching those three little anxiety-inducing dots appear and disappear several times, Willow's words finally appear on screen.

hello_willow: Thanks, Hunter. I appreciate you trying to make amends. Lucky for you, I've got some experience giving people second chances.

And oh, Hunter knows exactly how lucky he is. He breathes a massive sigh of relief, fist punching the air in victory before rushing to type out his reply.

rulerzreachf4n: THANK.YOU.CAPTAIN hello_willow: sure hello_willow: and just so you know, you don't have to call me 'captain' all the time hello_willow: you can just call me Willow

Hunter keyboard smashes his response, so excited to be on a first-name basis (his real name this time) that he doesn't realize he's accidentally typed out a code that changes into a picture of a little red heart until he's already hit send. Luckily, Willow doesn't seem too put off by it.

rulerzreachf4n: OK rulerzreachf4n: HI.; WILLOW <3 hello_willow: Hi Hunter :)

After that, it's almost too easy to slip into comfortable conversation, Hunter asking how she got into flyer derby, Willow launching into a story about the time she got talked into playing a game of grudgby against the school bully (Hunter grips his scroll a little tighter upon hearing that this Boscha girl had evidently dumped a whole can of garbage on Willow's head, and wonders idly whether it would be possible to have her arrested) using lots of strange shorthand that Hunter doesn't understand, but that Willow doesn't seem to mind explaining to him, unwaveringly patient and kind, never once making fun of him for his glaring lack of social skills.

Which is more than he can say for his pesky little palisman, who notices the way he's been beaming down at his scroll for the past two hours straight, and lands with a teasing little chirrup on top of Hunter's head.

"Hush, you," he quips, but there's no heat behind it (as all the heat in Hunter's body appears to have made a beeline for his face.)

She's just walked him through how to save their team photo to his camera roll and set it as his wallpaper, when Hunter notices a little crystal ball icon in the top right corner of their message thread. He's not quite sure what it does, and so, curiosity getting the better of him, he presses it, shock like a bucket of ice water shivering through him as Willow's voice sounds from the other end of the line a few seconds later.

"Hunter?" she says, sounding confused, but not displeased.

"Captain!" Hunter practically shouts, tripping over himself in an effort to sit up straight and smooth out his hair. Makeshift nest effectively ruined, Flapjack swoops into the air, landing on one of the splintered perches of Hunter's four-poster bed, twittering in that same teasing trill he'd adopted before, earning him a wide-eyed glare from his flustered little witchling.

"Can, um…can you see me right now?" Hunter asks, turning back toward his scroll with a look of apprehension.

"No, just your voice," Willow says, and Hunter deflates with relief. "I think you accidentally called me?"

"Oh," he says, embarrassment returning tenfold. "I'm sorry. I'm still figuring out how a scroll works."

"That's okay," she says, sounding like she genuinely means it. There's a mulled silence for a brief moment, and then, "I mean…do you need to go, or…we could talk if you want?"

"Yes!" Hunter exclaims excitedly, and then immediately reels himself back in, smoothing a hand over his hair even though she can't see how stupid he thinks he must look.

"I mean, yeah, I'd be cool with that," he amends in a voice that's about two octaves lower than his usual register. (And if birds could chuckle, then that's exactly what Flapjack would be doing right now.)

Hunter huffs out a splutter of indignation in the direction of the shameless little cardinal, two seconds away from threatening a shortage of goreberries, when a soft little giggle sounds from the opposite end of the line, and all at once, Hunter's brain short-circuits, heart skyrocketing into his throat. Oh Titan I made her laugh, he muses, and immediately sets to work trying to do it again.

They end up on the call well past midnight, Willow telling him all about how she switched from abominations to plant magic and has never been happier, Hunter delving into some of the elemental magic he's been studying in secret in his spare time.

"Luz's use of glyphs is actually very similar to the type of wild magic practiced in the savage ages," he prattles on excitedly. "Not many people know this, but—"

Hunter stops short, the words dying in his throat as he glances at the clock on his bedside table and realizes he's been talking nonstop for the past twenty minutes.

"Hunter?" Willow's voice crackles from the other end of the line, sounding concerned.

"Sorry, it's just…this is usually the point where whoever was pretending to listen interrupts to tell me that they don't care, or that it's stupid, or that it's forbidden." Hunter swallows against the anxiety building in his stomach, wondering which category Willow will fall into.

"Well, I'm listening," she says with genuine conviction, surprising him. "This is fascinating. I want to hear what you have to say."

"Oh," Hunter says softly, and just like that, something that's been tightly-coiled inside his chest for years starts to unravel. "You don't think my voice is…annoying?"

"No," Willow says with a scoff, like she's offended he would even suggest that. "I like your voice. Please keep talking, Hunter."

"Oh. Um. Okay," he says, the words trembling in his throat. This is…new. He's never experienced this feeling before. It's like…he wants to cry, but in a way that feels good? Huh. Weird.

"Okay," he says with a little more conviction, swallowing against the sudden tightness in his throat as he attempts to regain composure. "So, the glyphs could be seen as patterns in the elements of the land itself, sparking to life in bursts of light, glistening in sheets of ice, in flares of fire, in the veins of plants…"

He talks about wild magic for over an hour, and Willow lets him, never once making him feel like he's boring or bothering her, even though she must know at least some of this already. After all, she's one of Luz's closest friends, and from what he's seen, Luz is pretty much the only person he's ever met who could give his loquaciousness a run for its money.

But Willow listens, and asks questions, and makes witty, insightful commentary that has Hunter gasping in epiphany and laughing until his stomach hurts. And it's nice. Because no one has ever really made him feel heard before. No one else has ever been genuinely interested in the things he has to say, or the things he likes to study. And it's just…really, really nice.

Closing in on the end of the call, just minutes before they ring off and say goodnight, Hunter finally works up the nerve to ask her the one question that's been burning in the back of his mind since that moment in the holding cells. He hopes he isn't pushing too far, but at the moment, curiosity outweighs propriety, and he has to know.

"Hey, Willow?" he prompts during one of the rare lulls in conversation, soothed by the sounds of her sleepy sighs whispered in his ear. "What did you mean earlier, when you called yourself half-a-witch?"

There's a thoughtful hum on the other end of the line, and then Willow replies, "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

Hunter smiles, and for the first time in his life, he feels a little more whole.

• • •

He's sitting in his bedroom a little over a week later, head thrown back against his patched and tattered pillows, idly scrolling through his Penstagram feed, when a banner pops up on the screen, notifying him that hello_willow has just sent him a new message. Hunter bolts upright so fast he nearly gives himself a head rush, a little jolt of electricity sparking through his chest. They've been texting back and forth nearly every day for over a week now, yet somehow, the sight of her name flashing across his screen makes him giddy every time.

With shaking hands, Hunter opens up the chat, a broad smile spreading across his face as he stares down at a photo of her little bee palisman fast asleep on her derby uniform, along with the missive so cute! Hunter glances up in time to see his palisman curled up on his cloak, softly dozing in the sunlight streaming through his open window. How perfect! Careful not to wake him, Hunter scoots toward the end of the bed, fumbles with the controls to bring up his camera like Darius instructed him, and quickly snaps a photo to send back to her.

But of course, right as he's in the middle of capturing the perfect shot, he gets a string of annoying banner notifications from an account called badgirlcoven that pop up in such quick succession they end up covering the entire screen—

badgirlcoven: Are you good now?? badgirlcoven: Is Belos evil?? You can tell me! badgirlcoven: Also hi! badgirlcoven: It's Luz!

—followed by a collection of little symbols Hunter can't make heads or tails of. What does tiny smiling demon head, lightning strike, two flowers, and a rainbow mean? Must be some weird human code.

Frustrated, Hunter attempts to swipe them out of the way, but accidentally ends up accepting her friend request and opening the conversation thread instead.

LEAVE.ME ALONE he rattles off in a quick reply, navigating back to his camera roll and selecting the one photo he'd managed to take before she'd started blowing up his scroll. Luckily, it's not blurry, and the lighting is actually pretty decent. Which is more than he can say about his profile photo, the likes of which had taken him a good twenty minutes to get the perfect pose and angle just right, following Gus's instructions to the letter.

Satisfied with his progress, Hunter hits send, watches in abject horror as it pops up in his conversation thread with Luz instead of Willow, and quickly types back sORry.wrong.person,., before closing out his scroll with a loud pop.

Hunter sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face as he flops back down onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow and letting out a little huff of exasperation. A few seconds later, he resurfaces with a sigh, flipping back over to his chat with Willow, his entire demeanor shifting from tense and irritated to light and giddy as he smiles down at her photo, adding his own to the chat, with the accompanying message: he Likes. to sleep in MY.Cloak.

Within seconds, those three little bouncing dots appear, along with a string of messages from Willow cooing over how adorable Flapjack looks. He thinks, rather dejectedly, that that'll probably be the end of it, but then those three little dots appear again, and suddenly she's telling him all about some elaborate flyer derby strat that Skara came up with the other day at practice.

rulerzreachf4n: sounds.SO.cool rulerzreachf4n: WISH. I could.; see iT in aCTion hello_willow: I wish you could too hello_willow: btw, we still haven't found a replacement hello_willow: at least, no one that's come close to matching your sick sky skills ;)

Hunter knows what that means now — it's one of the many things she's had to explain to him over the past few days — it means she thinks he's talented. Hunter feels his face prickle with heat at the compliment. He starts typing out a response before he can think better of it, his one track mind hatching a wild plan.

rulerzreachf4n: mAYbe. yOU wont; HAve to rulerzreachf4n: whAt.; iF I snuCK,. oUt of tHe caStLe to; cOme to.,prACTice soMEtimeS? hello_willow: are you sure?? hello_willow: won't you get into trouble??

Probably, he muses. But Belos hardly ever pays attention to him half the time, and if he says he's going out on missions to patrol for lawbreakers or to round up recruits, then Belos will be none the wiser.

Besides, it's kind of exciting, breaking the rules.

Whoah. Who is he?

rulerzreachf4n: iLL;FIGURE.iT OUT hello_willow: really?? hello_willow: that would be amazing!! hello_willow: okay, I'll make sure to keep you updated as far in advance as I can about each practice session

She sends a little beaming smile emoji along with her message, and Hunter can't help but mirror the toothy little pictograph as he writes back his response.

THANK;YOU.CAPTAIN, he writes back, selecting a little green and gold heart emoji that reminds him of her to go with it. After all, it's all thanks to her he even knows how.

hello_willow: any time! hello_willow: btw, heart emojis are typically reserved for expressing love and affection, either for close friends or family hello_willow: …or romantically

OK tHanKs, he sends back, along with 17 little brightly colored hearts.

• • •

It's been a few weeks now, and Hunter is really starting to get the hang of this whole having a scroll and being a normal teen thing. He's even learning to type better! (At the very least, Gus has finally stopped teasing him for typing slower than his dad.)

He's lying back against his pillows, scrolling through all the photos he's recently saved to his camera roll — most of them are of Flapjack, some of them are of Clover (with the occasional appearance of Willow half in frame — he saves every photo she sends him.)

Some are "aesthetic" (read: blurry) shots of the books lining his shelves, some are of pretty flowers and plants he's seen in his travels and took for the sole purpose of sending to Willow (along with novel-length descriptions of what each of their properties are used for in potions and healing, eager to impress her with his newly acquired plant magic knowledge) and some are team photos taken during practice sessions.

But there's one in particular that catches his eye — a photo of him, likely taken by Gus, doing a cool little flip in mid-air. It's one of the first times he can genuinely say he likes the way he looks. So, with a rush of uncharacteristic confidence, he decides to post it to Penstagram.

A few minutes later, he gets a notification telling him that someone has commented on his photo. His heart leaps when he sees it's from hello_willow and then immediately plummets when he sees she's written <3

Hunter is confused. Why has the Captain given him a rating of less than three? And what exactly is she evaluating? His performance on the team? His performance as a friend? His looks? (For some reason, it's that last one that stings the most, seeing as he actually kind of really liked the way he looked in that photo.) After a good ten minutes of sulking, Hunter finally works up the nerve to ask her.

rulerzreachf4n: Captain

He lets it sit there for a few seconds, trying to figure out the best way to phrase his inquiry.

rulerzreachf4n: did I do something wrong?

Her reply comes instantly.

hello_willow: no?? why would you think that??

Hunter takes a deep breath, steels his nerves, and rips off the bandaid.

rulerzreachf4n: you gave my photo a score of less than 3 rulerzreachf4n: is it my performance? did I do the maneuver wrong? rulerzreachf4n: I'm sorry to have disappointed you, Captain

After a few agonizing seconds, three little dots appear in the chat box, indicating that she's typing. They disappear and reappear so many times, Hunter starts to worry that his heart is going to implode from the anticipation. And then he gets three new messages right in a row.

hello_willow: Hunter hello_willow: <3 is just another way to write out a heart hello_willow: it's just the text version of the heart emoji

Hunter re-reads her messages about a dozen times to make sure he's got that right, emotions running wild, clouding his ability to process them all at once — shame replaced by relief replaced by a dizzying kind of euphoria over the fact that Willow posted a heart on his photo.

rulerzreachf4n: oh rulerzreachf4n: well then I less than three you too, Captain

Hunter exhales on a shaky sigh of relief, head hitting the pillow as he clutches his scroll to his chest and lets the giddy smile spill across his face in earnest, ignoring Flapjack's teasing twitters — while on the other end of the line, Clover hovers above her little witchlet's head, smirking as Willow buries her blushing face in a pillow to keep from giggling too loudly.

• • •

Hunter is strolling through the lower levels of the castle when he feels his scroll vibrate in his pocket. Making sure he's alone and won't be caught slacking off by that sneak Kikimora, he slips into the nearest storage closet, and fumbles to open it.

He'd been hoping for a reply from hello_willow to his latest inquiry: when is your birthday and what is your favorite type of flower — unrelated, and is surprised to find an event notification waiting for him in the Emerald Entrails group chat — an invitation for a big group sleepover at Willow's house this coming Saturday night.

Oh. Wow. Okay.

He accepts before the dutiful side of his brain can talk him out of it, too excited to think of a plausible reason he couldn't go, at least for a little bit. He can't stay the whole night, of course, but he can at least stop by. He hopes Darius won't mind covering for him again, like he's been doing nearly every time Willow schedules a practice session.

It's funny. Darius acts like he's annoyed by it, like he couldn't care less what Hunter and his little friends have been getting up to, but every time Hunter comes by Darius's office, there's an unmistakable smile that curls across the older man's face, an air of pride whenever Hunter announces that he's been invited to hang out at the Treasure Shack, or the local diner downtown to split a celebratory ice scream sundae with his fellow teammates after winning the championship against St. Epiderm.

This time, when Hunter informs him that he's been invited to spend the night at the Captain's place of residence, and that he would very much like to go, Darius's eyebrows shoot up in intrigue, and there's something a little too knowing in the smile he gives Hunter when he shoos him out the door, telling him to have a good time and use protection.

Hunter isn't sure what that means. Are sleepovers normally dangerous?

A little nervous, and much later than he would have liked, Hunter arrives on Willow's front doorstep the following weekend. He knows he's got the right address the moment he sees it — a quaint, cozy little cottage the color of eggshells and buttercream, with curtains of floral-kissed ivy sprawling across the sides, and soft golden lights glowing like a summer sunrise through a set of big bay windows on the bottom floor.

"Hunter! I'm so glad you could make it!" Willow exclaims, answering the door before he even has the chance to knock, and pulling him into a bright, warm atmosphere filled with cozy camper beds and sweet-smelling aromas.

"Hunter!" his fellow teammates cheer as he steps into the living room, all three of them huddled around a big, plushy couch the size of two of his beds, debating amongst themselves which movie they should put on next. There's candy and chips overflowing in Titan-sized punch bowls scattered across every available surface, a couple of pizza boxes stacked on a nearby coffee table bearing a heavenly-smelling assortment of toppings he's never had the chance to try before.

Willow lets go of his arm long enough to offer him a selection of drinks he's never even heard of, and, not wanting to appear ignorant, he bashfully accepts a bright red bubbly one that tastes quite delightfully like ginger and cherries, mumbling several polite "thank you, captain"s before taking a seat on the couch opposite Gus.

Willow ends up being the deciding vote on which movie they should watch next, plucking the remote from Gus's unwilling hands with a triumphant grin as she hits play, claiming that this is one of her all-time favorites. Viney opts to sit on the floor next to Puddles, while Skara takes the middle seat in between Gus and Hunter on the couch, Willow perched at her feet, leaning back so that Skara can resume braiding her hair.

The movie starts up with a lively musical sequence, and although the plot is definitely intriguing, Hunter can't help but focus all of his attention on Willow, watching as her whole face lights up with nostalgic happiness, the way she laughs and gasps and mouths along with all the well-versed lines, eyes lit up in hues of green and gold as the screen reflects off the surface of her glasses.

Halfway through the movie, Hunter's scroll vibrates, and for a moment, he worries that it's Darius, calling him back to the castle. He discreetly slips it out of his back pocket, and is surprised to find two texts from Gus waiting for him in their message thread on Penstagram.

illusion_master: okay, real talk illusion_master: do you like willow?

Hunter stares down at the chat in confusion. What an odd question. Do friends normally check in for reassurance? If so, he suddenly doesn't feel so bad about all of his impulses to do the same.

rulerzreachf4n: What?? Of course I do. rulerzreachf4n: I like all of you.

A beat. A soft, long-suffering sigh. And then—

illusion_master: no, I mean illusion_master: do you have a crush on her?

Hunter's eyes widen in alarm. He'd have thought they were well past this by now. He's never given any indication that he would crush someone, especially Willow. He's apologized profusely for the whole recruitment incident, but even then, Skara was the only one who'd done any kind of physical damage. (Poor Steve.)

rulerzreachf4n: WHAT? Of course not! I would never harm the Captain!

The very thought of it makes him violently ill. He feels a strange, sudden impulse to leap down onto the floor and shield her with his entire body, like he's afraid the roof is going to cave in. But when he glances over at Gus with wide, horrified eyes, he sees that Gus is quietly chuckling to himself as he types away on his scroll. A few seconds later, a new message comes in.

illusion_master: omt my dude, do you know what a crush is? rulerzreachf4n: I'm…beginning to suspect that I don't illusion_master: it's when you like someone illusion_master: like, as more than a friend illusion_master: romantically <3

And there's that little heart emoji again. One of several he's been routinely sending the Captain every night before they go to sleep.

Oh.

OH.

And now Hunter is panicking for an entirely different reason.

What makes you think that??? he sends back frantically, staring down at his scroll like those three little jumping dots are about to seal his fate.

"Oh yeah, I've been slowly increasing the weight of the vines each day," he vaguely registers Willow proudly telling Viney as the two of them share workout tips. "I could probably even pick up Hunter by now."

Hunter's eyes grow wide as his focus zeroes in on the sound of his name coming from Willow's lips.

"What?" he says, equal parts apprehension and curiosity.

"Mind being part of a demonstration?" she asks, standing up and towering over him with that bright, warm smile of hers.

"Oh, uh— sure," he replies, not entirely certain what he's agreeing to, but standing up to match her positioning all the same.

"And scoop," Willow says, knocking the weight out from under him as she gathers him up into her arms.

It only lasts for a few seconds before she's gently depositing him back down onto the couch cushions, but in that brief few seconds, Hunter wraps his arms around her neck and feels soft skin and hard muscle pressed against him, smells the sweet earthy aroma of mint and basil and honeycrisp apples coming from her freshly-showered, freshly-braided hair, feels his heart skip several beats and launch into his throat as her triumphant giggle vibrates through his chest.

Vaguely registers the sound of Gus's snort of laughter and the way his scroll starts blowing up like crazy in his back pocket.

Vaguely registers that he's speaking, a string of nonsense words falling out of his mouth.

"Oh. Wow. Sports," he says, face burning like he's caught a fever.

Oh.

Oh no.

• • •

It had been weird, at first, adjusting to using a new staff. Especially one with its own unique personality and a sassy little red-feathered companion with a penchant for pulling Hunter's hair. But now that he's met Flapjack, Hunter couldn't possibly imagine ever going back to his old artificial staff. Infuriatingly meddlesome as he might be sometimes, Flapjack has always lead him exactly where he needed to go, even if he didn't know it or appreciate it at the time.

He ends up on a lot more nighttime patrols than he ever used to (at least, that's the excuse he uses to get out of the castle, craving the freedom of the open sky, the feeling of cool, crisp wind carding through his hair, giving Flapjack a chance to stretch his wings and soar to his heart's content.)

It's strange, Hunter used to adore spending time at the castle, shadowing coven heads and trailing after his uncle, begging for heroic tales of how he triumphed over wild magic. But lately, he's been feeling so…confined. Like a songbird trapped inside a cage. So, most nights, he waits until everyone has withdrawn to their quarters, slips out of the castle, and takes to the sky.

He's flying over some of the cozier suburbs of Bonesborough, low enough to let the treetops skim underneath the soles of his boots, when suddenly, he finds himself landing in the middle of a clearing lit up by fireflies and serenaded by a symphony of crickets and tree frogs, with very little idea of how he got there (though he's inclined to blame Flapjack, who'd immediately taken off in the direction of a makeshift pathway gated by a colorful assortment of wildflowers, leaving Hunter no choice but to chase after him.

"Hey! Come back here, you little—" Hunter huffs in fond exasperation, the rest of his words dying on a soft, surprised little oh the moment he realizes where he's ended up.

He's only ever seen Willow's house from the front, having only ever been there the one time for that amazing, nerve-wracking, life-altering group sleepover a few weeks back, but the moment he sets foot in the backyard, he knows it couldn't possibly be anything other than hers.

Hunter stands in the middle of a magnificent garden, a colorful collection of flowers, fruit, and herbs cast in hues of silver and hazy blue in the moonlight, transfixed as he watches Willow's silhouette in the window just above, glimmering in the glow of a set of golden fairy lights that wrap around the banisters of her balcony like flowering vines.

He knows that's Willow's bedroom. He doesn't know how he knows. But he knows. He also knows that he's been standing there, staring up at her window for quite some time now, and that there's probably a big, goofy grin plastered across his face right now. Flapjack confirms his suspicions with a teasing chitter, and Hunter affectionately shoos him away, rolling his eyes and muttering, "Oh, shut up."

There's a sudden rustling from up above, followed by the sound of a set of glass doors sliding open, and then a familiar figure is stepping out onto the balcony, gold-framed glasses glinting in the moonlight as she peers over the ledge into her backyard.

A wave of panic thrashes through him, and in an effort to avoid complete and total humiliation, Hunter attempts to dive head-first into a nearby bush, only his body won't pick a direction, so he just ends up doing a sort of flailing jog in place.

"Hunter?" a soft voice calls from up above, identical to the way she'd sounded the first night he'd accidentally called her.

Hunter freezes, rooted to the spot. Before he can say anything, Flapjack transforms into a staff and takes it upon himself to fly Hunter up to meet her, gently depositing him onto her balcony with only a few inches of space between them — the little instigator.

"Hi," he greets her with an awkward wave, voice slightly muffled through his Golden Guard mask.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, sounding surprised but not at all displeased to see him. Which is just…wow. Hunter isn't sure what to do with that. Still, now it means he actually has to come up with an answer that doesn't make him sound like a total creep.

"Oh, well, you know," he ventures in a mock casual tone. "I was just in the neighborhood and, uh…thought I'd stop by."

At 11 o'clock at night. On a Monday. Nope, nothing suspicious about that.

Willow arches an inquisitive eyebrow. "The Emperor's Castle is pretty far from my neighborhood," she says with an amused little smirk.

"Well, see, you didn't let me finish," Hunter blunders on, digging in his pockets for an excuse and pulling out a wrinkled bit of fabric he thinks might be one of their flyer derby flags. "You uh, left this on the field after practice today. I figured it was important, so I thought I'd return it to you."

Willow full on laughs now. "That's not mine, and we didn't even have practice today," she reminds him, taking the scrap of fabric out of his hands and holding it up under the light of one of the decorative bulbs. "See? It's purple. It belongs to the other team."

Hunter has never been more grateful for his mask, hiding how red his face is right now. This is a disaster.

"So, why are you really here?" she poses the question with a quiet curiosity, like he's a puzzle she can't quite figure out.

"I—" Hunter falters, partial truth spilling out of him before he can manage to come up with something more clever. "I don't know."

Willow stares at him, lips parted in surprise.

"This is weird," she says after a few moments, and Hunter's heart sinks to the depths of his writhing stomach.

"Talking to you like this," she clarifies, whiplash sending Hunter's heart soaring so high it nearly leaps right out of his mouth as Willow leans forward, hands coming up to rest on the sides of his face.

"Mind if I just—" she asks, fingertips finding the grooves where his mask meets the curve of his jawline, and gently tugs it upward, exposing every bit of pale, scarred, blushing vulnerability underneath.

"Hunter," she says, breathing his name between them like a sigh of relief, bursts of golden light from the string of fairy lights dancing in her pale green eyes as she stares up at him with a smile that could turn the dark into daylight.

Her hands drift between them in mid-air, like she isn't quite sure what to do with them, fingers twitching like she wants to reach out and touch him, trace the line of his jaw, the curves of his cheekbones, the swell of his lower lip. Or maybe he's just projecting.

He needs to leave. He wants to stay.

"I should—" he prompts, but he makes no move to go, merely jabbing his thumb in a vague direction behind him.

"Oh," she says, shaking herself out of the moment. "Right. It's late. Wouldn't want my dads to catch me trying to sneak a boy into my room this time of night."

She says it with a laugh, but there's a faint pink blush tinging her cheeks, and Hunter might not know much about what it's like to be a normal teenager, but now that he has access to a scroll, he's binged his way through enough teen rom-coms over the past couple of weeks to understand the implication.

It makes him feel giddy. He's a boy and if he's caught sneaking into a girl's bedroom in the middle of the night, her parents might think they're up to no good. (He's still a little fuzzy on the details of what exactly that might entail, but he knows it has something to do with romance and kissing and— oh, now his heart is racing, but it doesn't feel like the usual surge of adrenaline or sickly sensation of a panic attack. It feels good. It feels exhilarating.)

Whenever he's with Willow, he feels like a normal teenage boy. Not Caleb. Not the Golden Guard. Not the Emperor's right hand man. Just Hunter, normal teenage boy, doing normal teenage things, like having a scroll and joining a sports team and sneaking out late at night to go see a pretty girl. He's just Hunter, and for the first time in his life, that feels like enough.

"Goodnight, Hunter," Willow says almost wistfully, framed in the sliding doorway between bedroom and balcony.

"Goodnight, Willow," Hunter says softly, slipping his mask back into place and wondering why it suddenly feels so suffocating.

• • •

Strange, how everything can change so drastically in the span of a single evening. But then, hadn't it already been changing, ever so slowly, these past few weeks? In a lot of ways, he'd been hoping for a reason to leave, he just…not like this. Never like this.

Hunter sits in a secluded clearing in the middle of the woods, cracked Golden Guard mask clutched in the palms of his shaking hands, tear tracks streaking down his face, etched and re-traced with each wave of panic that threatens to empty the contents of his stomach out onto the forest floor.

He takes his scroll out of his pocket for what must be the dozenth time that night, thumb hovering over the crystal ball icon in his message thread with hello_willow, but every time he comes close to working up the nerve, some dark, twisted thing inside him, a voice that sounds an awful lot like the cold, lilting register of his uncl— of Bel— of Philip Wittebane, reminds him that he isn't worth her concern, that he'll only be a burden to her if he comes to her with this.

He's about to replace it back into his pocket, when he feels it buzz and light up with a new message. Lo and behold, it's from Willow, but it's in the Emerald Entrails group chat, rather than their direct message thread.

Willow: Hey Hunter, are you still awake? Willow: I had a bad day and could really use some cute photos of Flapjack right about now Willow: or, if you're up for it, maybe we could do a crystal ball call again?

Hunter breathes a sigh of relief, ready to swipe over to their chat and give her a call — even if he doesn't end up telling her, he knows just the sound of her voice will be enough to ease some of the tension gripping his chest like a vice — when he sees three little dots bouncing at the bottom of the chat window, Gus, Skara, and Viney typing one after the other, their responses coming in rapid-fire succession.

Skara: Willow, you do know this is the group chat, right? Willow: …I do now. Viney: oops! LOL Gus: late night crystal ball calls, huh ;) Gus: so do you two chat in private often, or… Skara: OMG ARE YOU TWO DATING??? Gus: oh thank Titan, finally Willow: you guys are the worst <3 Skara: THAT'S NOT A NO!!! Viney: ooooooo busted! ;) Willow: you all know he can see this, right? Willow: you're gonna embarrass him Gus: oh you sweet summer child Gus: it's cute how oblivious you both are Viney: Willow and Hunter sitting in a tree Willow: I'm deleting my account and chucking my scroll straight into the boiling sea Skara: K-I-S-S-I-N-G

Hunter exhales on a watery chuckle, wiping a stray tear from his eyes, the heat of his blush warming his face in the bitter cold of the dense forest night air. He takes a deep breath, takes an even bigger leap, and writes to the chat.

Caleb Jasper Bloodwilliams: Hey everyone. I— Caleb Jasper Bloodwilliams: I think I need help.

In an instant, the chat blows up, everyone typing all at once, messages spilling across the screen in a chaotic jumble of what's going on?, are you okay??, and where are you? we're on our way.

Within twenty minutes, he's sitting in the middle Gus's living room, Mr. Porter setting up a bed for him in their spare room while his teammates gather around him, doting on him in a way he's never felt even a fraction of when he was serving the coven and, arguably, sustaining way worse injuries.

But Gus insists that's just what friends do, settling a steaming mug of hot cocoa topped with extra marshmallows in between Hunter's freezing hands, while Willow teaches him a special four-count breathing technique to help keep him calm, and Viney and Skara tend to his cuts and bruises, the two of them exchanging conspiratorial smiles as they glance back and forth between Hunter and Willow, noting the fact that this is the first time they've seen Hunter smile all night.

Before he goes to sleep that night, Hunter snaps a photo of Flapjack all snuggled up in his little makeshift nest on the pillow next to him, and sends it to Willow in their private chat. A few minutes later, Hunter's scroll lights up on the nightstand, a glowing sheet of ghostly white illuminating the darkened room.

hello_willow: he looks as cute and cozy as I'm sure you do right now hello_willow: I mean hello_willow: I hope you're comfortable hello_willow: and settling in at Gus's well enough hello_willow: and I'm really happy that you're okay rulerzreachf4n: thank you, Captain rulerzreachf4n: not just for tonight, but for everything hello_willow: of course hello_willow: we've got your back, Hunter, always

Hunter smiles down at his scroll, a rush of warmth spreading from the tips of his ears to the tips of his toes. Only a couple of hours ago, he'd felt so lost, so alone. And now, here he is in a warm, loving home, safe and protected by a wonderful group of friends who had shown up for him within moments of him reaching out, and all he'd had to do was ask. Hunter isn't sure what his future holds, but right now, he feels invincible.

Oh, and Willow? he writes back, feeling a little extra emboldened. Please don't chuck your scroll into the boiling sea, I'd miss seeing your beautiful face on our crystal ball calls way too much <3

• • •

Hard as they try to prevent the Day Of Unity, Belos ultimately ends up succeeding in his plan to drain the life from every magic-wielding witch and demon on the Boiling Isles. Until, of course, Luz uses his own hubris against him, tricking him into getting branded with his own sigil magic. Half human, half monster, Belos stumbles toward the newly reconstructed portal door, using the very last of the Titan's blood from the cracked and draining key to escape into the safety of the human realm.

But there's one thing dear Philip didn't account for. He'd spent so long living in the demon realm, exceeding centuries beyond the mark of a normal human lifespan, carving corrupted combinations of the very thing he claimed to hate most into his own skin, all because he wanted to live long enough to see his ill-conceived revenge plan through, that the moment he crosses the threshold into a realm without magic, everything that had been sustaining his self-inflicted monstrous form crumples to dust, his body disintegrating like ash in the aftermath of a forest fire.

Luz sees it happen from the open door frame, the rest of the gang coming up on the tail end to watch as Belos dies before their eyes. With a heavy sigh, Luz closes the door, and with a little help from her friends, manages to detach it from its holder, bright blue Titan's blood sealing itself into the cracks of the frame and the tarnished metal of the portal key, almost as if it had purposely waited to become a permanent portal until after Belos died.

Luz clicks the magically repaired trigger on the face of the key, vanishing the portal into nonbeing, and slipping the chain around her neck for safe keeping. She's desperate to reunite with her mother, but first she needs to ensure that her demon realm family is safe.

With Belos gone, the draining spell breaks, and everyone with an activated sigil is safe. A little worse for wear, and with the possibility that some of them will bear those spiderwebbed scars extending upward from their coven sigils for the foreseeable future, but ultimately, alive and well.

After checking on Eda, Lilith, and Raine, Luz looks up to find Willow crouched beside Hunter, who's just been pulled into a tight one-armed hug by the former head of the abomination coven, and is now tenderly touching his newly healed arm, the two of them smiling at each other with that same remarkably familiar look Luz and Amity have always—

Oh.

Well that's an interesting development, she muses, matchmaking shipper heart going into overdrive. She can't wait to tell Amity. Maybe, when everything goes back to normal, they'll have another couple to go out on double dates with.

Genuinely smiling for the first time in weeks, Luz clutches the portal key to her chest and wonders, with no small amount of excitement at the realm of possibilities now open to her, where she and Amity should have their first official date — the human realm or the demon realm?

• • •

Hunter sits at a table in the back of the library, trying to concentrate on the book he's been reading, lost in another daydream. He's been slipping into daydreams a lot lately, all of them revolving around a certain flyer derby captain with a penchant for plant magic — laughing with her, laying in a field of flowers finding funny shapes in the clouds with her, stargazing under a full night sky with her, the two of them cuddled up under a blanket to stave off the chill of the evening air…holding her hand, kissing her cheek…holding her in his arms and kissing her (probably very soft) lips…pressing her up against the wall of his bedroom and kissing…other parts of her.

Hunter makes a soft little whine in the back of his throat, heat blossoming under the collar of his uniform.

These thoughts he's been having lately — they're not entirely…innocent. But he's nearly seventeen now, and although the conversation had been incredibly awkward, Darius had assured him that it was perfectly normal, finally explaining that comment about sleepover protection he'd made so many months ago. (Hunter's never had a dad before, but as far as adoptive parents go, he thinks Darius is pretty good at it so far.)

But even with the reassurance that he's not some kind of horrible, depraved monster for having these thoughts and feelings about his…friend (like he's certain his puritanical "uncle" would have had him believe) it's still unbelievably frustrating feeling like you have little to no control over your thoughts and your body's…erm…reactions to said thoughts.

Hunter blames it on the recent content he's been consuming, resents the fact that the romantic arcs in Ruler's Reach 2 and The Good Witch Azura series he'd borrowed from Luz and Amity have inspired him to branch out and search for other romance-centric fantasy novels, because now he can't stop picturing himself and a certain plant witch together in those same scenarios, and what if Willow were to show up and catch him in the act, thinking about the two of them kissing, and cuddling, and—

"Hunter!" says an achingly familiar voice, as though the thought alone had summoned her. Hunter startles, tipping back and nearly falling out of his chair, face practically glowing bright red. A steady hand reaches out to grip the back of his chair, and once again it's Willow to the rescue, saving him from imminent danger and utter embarrassment.

"Whatcha readin'?" she asks in a playful tone, glancing over his shoulder at the book propped open to a particularly steamy romance scene. Hunter flails in an effort to snap the book shut and quickly stow it away into his satchel.

"Oh, uh— it's nothing!" he exclaims, internally groaning when his voice cracks about an octave higher than its usual register. "Just some book series I kind of sort of like. It's stupid, you'd probably—"

"I love that series," she exclaims, and even after months of knowing her, she still manages to surprise him. "Just wait 'til you get to book three, it's my favorite."

Hunter pauses, a tentative smile spreading across his face.

"So," he ventures conversationally, hand coming up to attack a phantom itch on the back of his neck. "Are you team Alastair or team Hunter?" he prompts, referring, of course, to the two biggest love interests for the main character of the series. According to a couple of forums he's perused, the fandom is very divided on the subject, and both sides have been in an all-out war with each other since its publication. Hunter is eager to see which side she falls on, if it's the same as him.

"Oh I'm totally team Hunter," Willow says with a playful wink, and Hunter's face catches fire.

"They just have way more chemistry, you know? Plus, I'm kind of a sucker for the whole enemies to lovers trope," she adds with a suggestive smile, and Hunter's blush deepens at the mention of the word lovers.

"Did you hear they made a movie about it? It's called Love Choice and it's terrible," she chuckles, and then her expression turns suddenly nervous, finger twirling around a lock of hair that's come loose from one of her braids. One again, Hunter is struck by the strangest urge to reach forward and tuck it back behind her ear. Maybe, one day, he'll be bold enough to do it.

"We could watch it sometime, if you want?" she asks, gazing up at him with a hopeful smile. "Maybe you could come over today, after practice?"

"Yes!" Hunter agrees without a second thought. "Definitely. Absolutely."

"Okay then, it's a date," she says, a delicate shade of pink tinging the apples of her cheeks, and Hunter wonders whether his lips would leave a pale imprint, like a handprint on sunburn, if he were to kiss her there.

"Speaking of which…you uh, ready for flyer derby practice?" she asks, suddenly remembering the reason she'd come to find him in the first place.

"Captain," he says with a stoic nod and a respectful salute, smiling brightly when Willow giggles, takes him by the hand, and leads him out onto the field.

Meanwhile, Luz and Amity, who have been watching this whole exchange from a few tables away, hidden behind a tower of books in the wake of their after-school Azura book club, fix each other with wide-eyed looks of shock and delight, conspiratorial smiles worthy of the Cheshire Cat spreading across their faces.

• • •

They're crowded around their usual table in the cafeteria the following day, Luz and Amity huddled up together on one side of the table with Gus and Hunter, Willow seated between Skara, Viney, and Mattholomule on the opposite side.

"So, that's the dress I'm thinking of wearing to Grom this year," Amity says, showing Luz a photo on her scroll. "What do you think?"

"I love it!" Luz exclaims, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend's shoulders and kissing her on the cheek. "You're gonna look so pretty! Granted, when don't you?" she adds, and Amity preens, blushing a deep shade of scarlet.

"I'll try to find something similar so we can be all matchy-match," she says, pulling out her phone and sending a text to her mom, asking if she and Eda can take her shopping after school today — demon realm or human realm, she's not picky. With the portal reconstructed, she's used to spending an equal amount of time in both.

"Speaking of Grom," Amity prompts, sharing a conspiratorial smile with Luz before addressing the opposite side of their lunch table. "Willow, are you thinking of asking anyone?"

"Oh," Willow says, startled by the sudden spotlight. "Uh…I don't know. Maybe."

There's a ruffle of pages as Hunter perks up from the book he'd been nose-deep in just a few seconds before, casting side-eyed glances in their direction, trying not to make it look obvious that he's listening in on their conversation.

"How about that guy over there?" Luz asks, catching sight of a tall upperclassman who immediately averts his gaze and turns tomato red the moment he realizes he's been caught staring at Willow. "You know, the one who keeps looking at you all hearts in his eyes? He's kind of cute, right?"

Hunter's hands clench a little tighter around the book he's pretending to read — From Bones To Earth: A Study Of Wild Magic. He holds his breath, waiting for Willow's reply.

"He's not really my type," Willow says without even glancing up, and Hunter breathes a soft little sigh of relief. "Besides, he already asked me and I turned him down."

"Waiting for someone else to ask you?" Gus prompts with a teasing lilt, cottoning on to what Luz and Amity are trying to do, and playfully nudging Hunter in the ribs.

"I don't know," she says with a shy smile, glancing briefly in Hunter's direction. "Maybe."

"So Willow, what is your type?" Luz asks, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Willow hums, thinking it over. "Cute. Funny. Clever. Likes to read," she says, ticking each quality off on her fingers. Hunter glances up from his book and locks eyes with her, waiting on baited breath.

Willow's smile takes on a fiery determination as she looks directly at him and says, "What was that phrase you used that one time, Luz? Bad but sad boy? Also, face scars are kinda hot."

There's a loud crash from the opposite end of the table, the contents of Hunter's food tray scattered across the cafeteria floor in one unfortunate slip of his elbow. But Hunter doesn't seem to care. He's far too busy staring at Willow, bits of spaghetti hanging from the curls and cowlicks of his fluffy blond hair, face redder than a bard sigil, eyes wide and hopeful.

Luz takes this as the perfect cue to turn toward him, a rapturous smile on her face as she asks, "So Hunter, what's your type?"

• • •

"If you're gonna ask Willow to Grom, then you've gotta go big," Gus assures him on the tail end of a frantic scroll call. "And, as co-captain of the human appreciation society, I know everything there is to know about grand romantic gestures."

"How soon can you come over?" Hunter asks, wearing holes into his favorite pair of cardinal socks as he paces his bedroom floor.

"Way ahead of you, dude," comes Gus's voice from both the other end of the line and from outside Hunter's bedroom window, arms laden with all manner of glittery gel pens, giant posters, paper rose petals, and decorative balloons, struggling to free up a hand to knock on Darius's front door.

He has a fully-formed, foolproof plan that immediately goes to shit at every possible turn, Willow managing to miss every single gesture Hunter makes in an attempt to ask her to go to Grom with him, leaving an increasingly desperate Hunter begging Gus for more ideas in between classes throughout the rest of the day.

Balloons and streamers fly out of her locker early that morning, but she's too distracted trying to collect the pile of books that had also fallen out of her locker in the process, so she doesn't see them as they float away toward the high ceiling, a number of them getting caught in the jaws of other lockers along the way. Hunter glances up, wincing as the one labeled Grom pops and wilts to the floor.

She rearranges the "mess" of flower petals carefully arranged into the phrase Will You Go To Grom With Me? around the plant track homeroom the moment she sets foot inside.

"Oh hey Hunter, what are you doing here?" she asks as she passes by him in a flurry, plucking the trio of red roses out of his hands and humming to herself as she sets about trying to find them a vase.

"Where did these come from?" she asks, pressing her nose into the center of them and inhaling deeply. "Someone must have forgotten to pot their plants, poor things. Don't worry, little roses, I'll take care of you. So pretty."

And Hunter can't even be mad about it, because she's just so adorable when she's in plant mom mode.

"Thank you, Hunter! I'm starving," she says as Hunter sets a tray of food down in front of her, not bothering to look down before she starts digging in, completely missing the message spelled out for her in expensive sushi that Hunter had had to order special and have delivered to campus.

Hunter falters, one hand held out to stop her, but then lets it drop. He sighs, handing her a small tin of pickled ginger, which she accepts with a cheerful smile.

By the end of the day, Hunter is at his wit's end. He doesn't know what a boom box is, or where he would even find one on such short notice to reenact some sappy rom-com scene from a movie Gus was gushing about in his grand gestures plan.

He's making his way toward the front entrance, when out of nowhere, Willow catches up to him, breathless and red in the face.

"Hunter!" she exclaims, as though she'd been rushing around everywhere trying to find him.

"Hey, um…" she pauses, taking a deep breath as she steels herself to do something nerve-wracking.

"Do you want to go to Grom with me?" she blurts out, blushing in earnest now.

Hunter freezes, hardly daring to believe it. His face breaks out in a big, goofy grin, and when he finally remembers how to breathe again, he exhales on a shaky, half-hysterical little laugh.

"Yes," he says, a little breathless.

"Definitely."

He steps toward her, holding out his hand and feeling his heart leap into his throat when she takes it, face aching from the effort of mirroring her radiant smile.

"Absolutely."

• • •

The following Monday after Grom weekend finds the Hexsquad (an affectionate nickname Luz invented for their little group of friends) gathered around the lunch table, comparing photos they all took together at the dance, and deciding which ones to post to Penstagram.

Hunter sits beside his brand new girlfriend, one hand holding hers (and wow he's still not used to how soft and small her hands are compared to his, how perfectly they fit in his own) the other scrolling through his saved photos.

"Hmm, I like that one," Willow says, chin resting on his shoulder. "And that one. But this one is my absolute favorite. I think I'll set it as my new profile picture."

Hunter exhales on a contented sigh as he selects the photos she said she'd liked and posts them to his Penstagram — one featuring all of their friends, huddled together in the photo booth making silly faces at the camera — one with just the two of them, dressed in an emerald green gown and a fitted black and red suit that Darius had insisted on helping Hunter pick out for the occasion (the photo itself, Willow's teary-eyed dads had insisted on taking) — and one that Willow mirrors in real time, leaning forward to press a kiss against Hunter's cheek, his face turning the same delicate shade of pink as it is in the photo.

Elements of this story were inspired by art by ehspio, keeperofthebox, miniminish, moringmark, and rileyclaw

#the owl house #huntlow #hunter the golden guard #willow park #the owl house fanfiction #huntlow fanfiction #she has a type (and it's bad but sad boys)#fairytalesandfolklore #fairytales-and-folklore #fairytalesandfolklore fanfiction #fairytalesandfolklore the owl house #fairytalesandfolklore huntlow

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john-get-the-salt · 1 year ago

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Soothing (w/rick grimes)

Imagine: Ever since the world went to shit, your anxiety levels have been through the roof. Turns out there's only one thing, or rather one family, that can help ease your stress.

Contains: domestic rick, baby judith, reader being referred to with fem titles, no appearance of Carl sorry just imagine he’s off doing dumb shit

Warnings: none

Relax, you made it home!

You glared down at the doormat as you shoved a key inside the lock and opened the front door. The house you shared with the Grimes family was quaint, with lots of terrible quotes stitched onto pillows and corny sayings carved into wood and hung on walls. The decor remained untouched, exactly the same as the day you moved in.

But, you thought as you let yourself into the house, it might be time to burn that stupid doormat. It didn’t matter how long you spent in Alexandria–you would not be relaxing. Last time you made the mistake of letting your guard down the world taught you a lesson in the form of a psychotic governor. You wouldn’t be making that mistake twice.

Alexandria had been a much needed reprieve, but you hadn’t forgotten the years spent out in the wild. The months spent constantly moving, in search of food and water and any sense of safety. Living with anxiety and fear every day for such an extended period of time left you permanently on edge. So yes, while Alexandria was certainly nice, you weren’t holding your breath. After all….you’d all thought the prison was secure too.

You shook your head to get rid of the the sudden flashing images and memories that came up at the mere thought of the prison. If you let yourself go down that path now you’d be useless for the rest of the day.

As you mentally scolded yourself for becoming distracted, you walked further into the house and then up the stairs to the second floor. You’d come in for a very specific reason. It was Rick’s turn to take a shift on the wall and you wanted to offer to cover it for him. He seemed extra tired lately, and you worried to death he was stretching himself too thin.

However when you got to the landing at the top of the stairs, you froze. A soft voice was coming from one of the bedrooms, and after a moment you recognized it as Rick’s. You stepped closer, avoiding the floorboards you’d learned were creaky, and peaked into the room.

Rick was sitting in a rocking chair with Judith in his lap. He was showing her pictures and talking to her softly.

"This is Carl. He's your big brother."

Judith spit out a bit of jibberish as she grabbed the picture of her brother in her little fist and shook it aggressively. You held a hand over your mouth in an attempt to hide your giggles as Rick tried to gently pry it from her fingers. He finally did, and moved on to the next picture.

He showed her a picture of himself, and Judith pointed from the picture to him. "Daaa," she squeaked, clapping her hands.

Rick's smile was so big it could've outshone the stars, and your heart melted at the adorable sight in front of you. You were about to leave them in peace, dead set on taking his wall shift now, when Rick spoke up again and caught your attention.

"And last but not least..." He trailed off and curiosity got the best of you so you peeked further in.

Rick was showing Judith a picture of you.

The picture was of you, sitting a table with a giant bowl in front of you and a big smile on your face. It was a simple picture, but it had such a meaningful story attached to it.

Last season, around the time you guessed was your birthday, Rick surprised you with a giant ice cream sundae. Sundaes had come up during random pillow talk one night as one of the random things about pre-apocalypse you missed. You thought it was rather silly, but Rick did not. He made you the ice cream with Carol's ice cream maker and bartered with the neighbors to get some of your favorite toppings. It meant so much to you.

Judith pointed at the picture, giggling, and said, "Ma."

For a split second your heart stopped and you could barely breathe.

Rick stopped rocking and looked down at his happy daughter as she reached for your picture, desperate to get her hands on it.

"That's right, Judith. That’s your Mama."

Your eyes began watering and you couldn’t hold back as you sniffed. Rick looked up at the noise, and his eyes softened even more once he spotted you.

You stepped into the room and Judith finally noticed you, smile growing as she got excited and reached her arms out toward you.

"Hi Judith," you cooed.

Rick stood from the rocking chair and you met them, taking your sweet girl into your arms. She didn’t hesitate to bury her face into your neck, murmuring in her special language that no one else could understand.

And just like that, you could feel some of your own anxiety leave you. The tension in your shoulders eased, face smoothing of frown lines. Your entire body sagged with a sudden wave of exhaustion. You leaned into Rick and he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and Judith before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you look peaceful in a while,” Rick murmured quietly, careful not to disturb Judith who had already closed her eyes in the comfort of your arms.

“It’s been bad lately,” you said truthfully. Since the very first time you and Rick discussed being a couple you vowed to always be honest with each other. And that included being honest about your feelings-both good and bad.

Rick knew you didn’t need him to push, you would share more when you were ready. He just continue to hold you tightly.

You allowed your eyes to close, not an easy feat, but in Rick’s arms you felt loved and comfortable and safe.

The romantic moment was broken up when Judith stirred on your shoulder and then Rick was letting out a wince.

You opened your eyes to find her with one of Rick’s curls in her hand as she pulled on it eagerly.

The two of you chuckled as Judith showed off a toothy grin.

Rick rested his forehead against yours and you took this moment to just bask in being with part of your family.

"I love you," he said softly.

"I love you too."

You would do anything for this dysfunctional little family of yours.

Anything.

#imagine #fanfic #drabble #writing #the walking dead #twd #rick grimes #twd rick #twd imagine #twd fanfiction #twd fandom #rick grimes x reader #x reader imagine #x reader

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50cal-fullauto-astarion · 2 years ago

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König HCs

Because why not lads. These are some of my personal ones regarding the lore I’ve put together for him. TW: untreated mental illness, childhood neglect, burn injuries, surgical trauma. Uh, some other shit, too, probably. Idfk reader beweader you’re in for a sceader.

Bro has BPD. It covers a lot of the beloved fanon interpretation of him being clingy and hot/cold and scared of being left. He’s got Fear Of Abandonment Syndrome, and he’s like 10% more likely to make a fucky wucky on himself and end up sleeping in the forever box.

Source: I have it and my baby girl only gets the best of the worst from me.

H a t e s d o c t o r s. And hospitals, and surgical procedures, and anything of the like. He’s probably already got more health issues than a blue blood racehorse just from his sheer size alone - prone to heart issues and musculoskeletal strain - but there’s no way on god’s green earth that he hasn’t been through a handful of major procedures because he’s diagnosed with human knife block and bullet sponge disorders respectively.

Sub-point A: born with a cleft palette and lip. Palette was corrected, has a turned second incisor as a result. Lip was botched. Pulled a pot of boiling sugar off a stove and burnt a big-ass portion of his face, neck, chest, and stomach. Multiple painful reconstructive and corrective surgeries to deal with keloid scarring.

Sub-point B: psychology might help OTHER people, but HE is built DIFFERENT. He’s not crazy, you see, and if you suggest otherwise you’ll suddenly develop a case of Backpfeifengesicht and he’ll provide the violence. DBT? That’s Dick and Ball Torture, babey.

Despite this, he lies through his teeth at psych evals. He knows the “right” answers, and he is not going to get his livelihood taken away from him, even if it’s not exactly what he wanted. If he’s answering for his own actions, he can swerve and intuit what thing will calm things down the most and get him the smallest punishment.

Developed most of his wheedling skills as a kid, parents were neglectful as shit. Mostly disregarded him during his upbringing. Youngest of three, an eldest sister and a brother. Not in contact with any of them.

He’s 34. I don’t know if I’ve accepted him being a Colonel into my heart as my lord and savior, I’m still figuring that one out until there’s more concrete canon material besides a loading screen.

Grew up in a hoarder house of apathy, alcoholism, and depression and it was DISGUSTING. Black mold, water damage, trash everywhere, travel lanes carved through the most useless fucking junk. His parents bred Doberman dogs to sell as guard/security dogs, and some lived in the house, adding to the filth and destruction. He can’t stand a dirty house, and as an adult has an insane cleaning routine. Often stress cleans. You could eat off his bathroom floors.

He Does Not Like Dogs. Period. He especially hates Dobermans. He doesn’t like dog breeders worth a fuck either, good or bad.

Did not have any sort of media or anything as a kid. Parents didn’t spend money on tech or pop culture stuff, they were kind of stuck 30 years behind everyone else. His parents were older when he was born, he was very unplanned and not particularly warmly welcomed. Kept himself entertained out in the boonies, did a lot of reading, learned to juggle, learned to juggle knives. Had a big brokedown half-draft horse to take the kennel dogs on longer walks in the country, horsebacked a lot.

Soon as he was in the army, away from his family home, and living on his own, he got his first cell phone and computer and pretty much started living on the internet. He’s self taught in a couple of programming languages, very tech literate, halfway kind of lives on Reddit (narrowly swerved getting redpilled, thank fuck) on his personal time, and built his own PC set up. Built one for Horangi, too, and gives Stiletto advice on her own build when she asks for it.

H E H A T E S K L A U S

Bc I said so, everyone I love hates Klaus. All my homies fuckin hate Klaus.

König was raised secular Jewish, really doesn’t know all that much about it and didn’t get a bris or bar mitzvah, it’s just like Yeah That’s What I Put On Papers to him. Klaus is always getting in his shit about Austria and WW2. König’s grandparents made it out of the camps and went on to become: a microbiologist, a professor at the Austrian University of Veterinary Medicine, a multi term mayor of a small village/candy maker, and a beloved homemaker. The brilliance of the family seemed to leech out with each passing generation, and König sees himself as the dead end of it all.

König has rocked Klaus’s shit about the shitty jokes before and will do it again.

Favorite rugby club is South Africa, and he has an intense crush on Faf de Klerk even though he’s been traded to Japan. He’s kind of hot for all scrum halves tho lbr here.

Lunch break is over and this is ridiculous, will probably do more later.

#könig #konig #konig call of duty #könig mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #konig cod #idk I just slap tags around and go hehe #my head canons

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divinityunleashed · 2 months ago

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Location: The White House

Several Hours Later . . .

It was a long flight from Planeptune to Washington DC, but Neptune finally made it to the White House. There, President Armstrong was waiting for her with open arms.

"There you are! Welcome to America, Neptune. I hope that our government was to your liking."

"It's alright, I suppose! Now, where's the pudding?"

"Heh. Right this way."

Armstrong lead her inside, towards one of the back rooms of the structure, before shutting the door behind him and locking it, turning to face her.

"Sorry, not sorry. But you are not going to be going anywhere. See, I see value in your little home, and I want it. So, only way to properly secure it is to eliminate it's most powerful Guardian. You."

"Well, I don't plan on giving up without a fight!"

As Neptune began her transformation process, Armstrong had a trick up his sleeve.

Grabbing out the Anti-Crystal, he spared no expense in throwing it right at Neptune, implanting it right onto her chest! This ended up triggering it's siphon function and immediately booted her out of the transformation!

"Hey, what gives?!"

"Don't you recognize it, Neptune? Hah! Can't fret too much over it but your powers are now useless!"

Armstrong outstretched his arms and a loud crunching noise came out, as he flexed his Nanomachine's in such a way to reveal that he was no ordinary human.

BGM: Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance - Collective Consciousness

"Let's go."

The Unenlightened Masses

They cannot make the Judgement Call

Give up free will forever

Their voices won't be heard at all!

Armstrong bullrushed Neptune with quick speed, not even giving her a chance to react by delivering a powerful gut punch!

Ping ponging around the room, making mini Neptune indents. She was at this moment in time powerless to stop Armstrong's strikes as he slammed his shoe onto her head.

Display Obedience

While never stepping out of line

And blindly swear alliegance

Let your country control your mind!

A few heavy stomps to her head and then grabbed by the neck, Armstrong looked her dead in the eyes.

"For someone claimed to be so powerful, a Protagonist, you certainly lack the strength. An overreliance on your powers."

"FORE!"

Letting go of her for a split moment, he followed it up with a kick to the central solar plexus, sending her flying into another wall, indenting her into it as he slowly walked forward.

Live in ignorance

And purchase your happiness

When blood and sweat is the real cost

Thinking ceases, the truth is lost!

Don't you worry, you'll be told exactly what to do

I give my people the lives they need

The righteous will succeed.

"When... they find out about this... We will retaliate... Gack!"

"Oh don't worry about them. I'm making the mother of all omelettes here! Can't fret over every egg! As we speak, my forces are already preparing their assault on your precious Planeptune."

"So you just sleep real tight, whilst my men drag you off to your Cell. I have plans for you. America has use of your powers, after all. That thing on your chest will grant it."

"Not... like... this... I won't let you... win!!"

BGM: Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance - It Has To Be This Way

With a final, desperate attempt to make any sort of dent into Armstrong, Neptune charged forward and began a rapid fire barrage of slices with her blade!

Standing here.

I realize

You are just like me

Trying to make History

But whose to judge?

The right from wrong?

When our guard is down...

I think we'll both agree!

That violence breeds violence!

But in the end it has to be this way!

But no matter how many times Neptune unleashed her Cross Combinations, Armstrong wasn't budging; his Nanomachines forming through his shirt in order to absorb the strikes. Eventually, her speed lowered, and lowered, and lowered, until she looked like a child weakly smacking their fists against their father.

"You finished, Nep?"

No response. Just gasping breath. Standing there, realizing that she is no match without her Hard Drive Divinity.

"Thought so. Don't fuck with this President!"

With one final move, Armstrong booted her face, sending her flying into the wall, and knocking her out.

As he finished her, two American Soldiers walked into the room on cue.

"Take her to Alcatraz."

"Yes sir."

The two Soldiers then roughly grabbed Neptune, a shoulder each, and began to drag her away...

#[ Story Arc: Desecration of Planeptune ]#[ Divine Lore ]#[ Protagonist of Protagonists ]#[ Make America Great Again! ]

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ephemeral--dreams · 2 years ago

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Late night yandere thoughts - Kaveh, Zhongli, Yelan

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

Kaveh

I worry severely for his ability to be a proper yandere tbh

By which I mean he struggles so much with not just letting you go the moment you plead with him to. He's really too emotional for this - rather, he folds too easily, and is almost more likely to be manipulated than to manipulate you.

It's that very same quality that has the power to guilt trip you into staying, though. It almost feels more like taking pity on him rather than being kidnapped, with how clingy he gets when you tell him to stop this nonsense…

(Of course, he is not entirely oblivious to this, either. He knows what he is doing is wrong, and that he wouldn't have the heart to harm you if you tried to fight your way to freedom. However guilty he feels about playing on your emotions to get you to stay, though, isn't it for the best? You're safe with him. He will not lose another person he loves, so this is better for you both. Anyway, if you'd loved him before, can't you love him while stuck here, too?)

He'll take good care of you, he promises!! Pretend he hasn't put security measures on every exit and everything will seem normal.

Don't expect Alhaitham to help. It's too much energy to get involved in Kaveh's affairs. He'll leave you alone as long as you leave him alone.

Kaveh honey can you even afford to keep a person. Where are you getting the money to do that from.

Zhongli

Dragon. Possessive. You see where this goes.

He doesn't follow any sort of human morals. He has been above such things for centuries. Even living among them, his polite demeanor is partially an act. He would like to blend in with society, and does not feel any particular bloodlust. But he feels no remorse for being swayed into taking you.

Likely manipulated you into signing a contract that effectively placed your life into his hands. Who knows what it was… All that matters is that he has you now, and by Liyue laws, you agreed to it. No matter if you try to fight after the fact.

Will keep you chained up if he must. It will be much easier on you if you cooperate, however. Zhongli would like you to be able to move around your shared home freely. Keeping you bound to a single place is much like locking up a beautiful treasure in a box - a useless endeavor. Pretty things should be enjoyed, so do behave yourself.

Also not above training you to behave. Don't test him.

He might even let you have little outings once he knows you won't bolt from his side the moment the door opens. Wouldn't you like a romantic dinner out? <3

It's very simple with him. Be good and get spoiled, or don't, and face consequences. Either way, you will be his until the end of your life.

Yelan

Another possessive one. In a different way, though. She won't kidnap you, but she will always be watching. Best get used to the prickling of eyes on you.

That, and her sudden appearances. The unexpected way she appears behind you while you wander the local market, leaning over your shoulder to point out which produce to buy (someone was looking at you for a bit too long, and she had to make certain her claim was stated), or when she climbed in through your window late in the evening (she was overly concerned about you being targeted because of her. Better to stay the night just in case she needed to protect you. She dealt with dangerous people each day, after all).

There is that paranoia - that you may get hurt due to your connection with her. Or in some way entirely unconnected. The mere thought that you could be taken from her is enough to make her arms tighten around you, for her to spend time resecuring the house after you're sleeping, to guard over you even more.

You're kept in the dark about the trail of bodies that follows you. Anyone she deems a threat, anyone who bothers you or irritates you. Gone, just like that. You will have peace and safety, without disturbance from any criminal scum. And then you will come back to her happily without an inkling of the blood spilled for your sake.

Wife that loves you enough to kill people for you what more could you want.

#genshin impact x reader #kaveh x reader #zhongli x reader #yelan x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #headcanon hours

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blueflyingturtleontheway · 11 months ago

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Streak

Gabe puts himself together and makes a list.

Fandom: Elena of Avalor

Characters: Gabriel Nuñez, others mentioned

Other: rundown of basically the whole show, angst, no happy ending, no resolution, monologue

Word count: 1086

Gabe rubbed the coarse towel on his head, ruffling his still wet hair. He felt a little lighter now, calmer, like he could finally start putting his thoughts in order.

It all started four years ago already. He should've taken a hint when he let himself and Isabel be kidnapped on his very first day on the job. And not long after he let Fiero in to that party where he turned everybody into stone, and then almost made it impossible for Elena to defeat Orizaba, when she first discovered her scepter's powers. He didn't really shine that first year of his service.

He froze for a moment when he realised what he just said sounded like a pun. He pinched the bridge of his nose in shame. He really needed to take a break from both Mateo and Elena.

His most embarrassing failure to this day though, was probably taking El Guapo's sword back when he was competing for his post. It was selfish, it was dangerous, it was breaking the law - and it was just so stupid. And the worst part was that during those two days when Guapo was possessing his body, there were moments when he didn't want him gone. There were moments where he was glad - delighted - that he was stronger, he was faster, he was more confident, and just how difficult it was to decide to actually use Mateo's cure. There were moments back then when he finally felt like a true knight.

His gaze absentmindedly went to the training dummy set aside in the corner and felt the fresh abrasions on his knuckles burn. Nowadays he often wondered if he wasn't too similar to the cursed general. If maybe Mateo's potion didn't work completely and some part of the ghost was left in him. But he always quickly abandoned these thoughts.

His first year as captain wasn't much better than as a lieutenant. He didn't notice anything off about Rita for the weeks that she's been around. He was just as fooled as Mateo and just as dismissive to Naomi as Elena's been. And then he even let Shuriki herself into the palace. Shuriki. The one worst nightmare Avalor had to face in the past half a century and he didn't even notice though he might've passed her himself in the crowd. That would be it, in terms of his security skills.

He reached for his uniform that he's left on the chair earlier and slowly took to buttoning it up.

And what followed - oh stars, what followed. In the weeks after Shuriki returned they all - he, Naomi, Elena, Mateo, even Isa - they all could've died a thousand times over. And during all of that. He. Was. Useless. He lost the scepter piece to Shuriki, he couldn't help Isa when Shuriki set the tower on fire. Magic fire. And he was powerless against magic, against wizards, against scepters.

He squeezed the comb in his hand until its teeth painfully drove into his palm. He took a few breaths in and out before he turned to the mirror.

Then of course he got captured by Fiero during the battle of Nueva Vista and let the Delgados escape. And if he wasn't good at keeping criminals away, he was even worse at finding them. He spent what? Three months? Four? Chasing Delgados all throughout the country, combing through every inch of the jungle and every abandoned house and he would've never found them if they didn't reveal themselves. Not to mention that he couldn't capture them even when they basically served themselves on a silver platter.

He took the report from his desk and skimmed the even lines of text one last time. He let out a sigh before putting it in a file.

He seemed to be getting worse at his job actually. They had them all imprisoned, even the ex chancellor when he turned out to be a criminal too. And finally everything seemed to be over, everything seemed to be well and almost too good to be true. Well, it was definitely too good to last. He let his guard down, he allowed himself a moment to relax and those dangerous criminals escaped, again. And again on his watch. And he wasn't even able to catch Ash and Esteban despite being right behind them. He wouldn't have caught the other two if one of them didn't get turned to stone and the other gave up.

He stopped for a moment before the mirror to make sure he looked presentable. He took a few deep breaths, unfurrowed his brows. He already had to explain himself of one thing, he didn't need any extra attention to his shortcomings.

Doña Paloma's words stung when he heard them, of course. It hurt even more knowing that two of his friends agree with her. But what was probably the worst was that deep down he knew she was right. Why was he still leading the guard? And how long was he still going to? He now saw that the moment someone more skilled, more competent came along, he was going to lose his position. He was replaceable.

He controlled his pace through the palace corridors, even though he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. He answered with a nod to a salute, when he passes the guard posted before the treasury.

But that's why he was taking action. There were enough fights where he was knocked out, his sword cast away and he was simply useless. But he was going to do better. He had a plan now he just- he just can't make such stupid mistakes as he did today. He has to do better.

He raised his head high as he reached with fist towards the door and took one last deep breath.

Was it really so bad that he finally wanted to show what he's worth?

#my post #blue's writing #elena of avalor #eoa #gabriel nuñez #gabe nuñez #gabriel nunez #gabe nunez #this is kind of sort of a vent fic i guess #i am projecting my emotions and unhealthy coping mechanisms on gabe #i might add a short happy ending part later but really idk

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doctorstrangereview · 8 months ago

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0025: Strange Tales #133

Cover Date: June 1965 On-Sale Date: March 11, 1965

Doc gets some good cover real estate this month and is even first, occupying the left third. It's a Kirby original based on the story inside. Kirby's interpretation of Strange is improving, but still a little bit off. The other exciting thing is that there are not one, but two women on the cover! For a series that barely acknowledges the existence of women, we get two in major roles! We had to journey to another universe for this to happen. Yes, this is one of the side trips in this story arc.

Our splash page shows Doc's silhouette in white against an unknow background vaguely reminiscent of the dimension Mordo sent Doc's house back in issue #117. Moving back to Mordo, staying the Ancient One's pad rent free, he is talking with Dormammu on the floaty, smoky TV. Mordo believes he's destroyed Doc, by Dormie corrects him. "No, you idiot. He skedaddled outta there. Are you so stupid you couldn't sense it?" says Dormie. "You gotta charge me up so I can follow him," replies Mordo. "Are you still being a moron? There are infinite dimensions. We'll have to wait for him to show up again."

Nearby, Clea is apparently listening in on all this. Looks like Earth isn't the only place where magical beings can't be bothered with security. Clea frets for a bit, but has no ideas, and these panels just fill the rest of the page without moving the plot forward.

Back to Doc. He's turned into a big, black marble that is bursting through some very wet dimensional barriers on his journey. They do look very cool!

Eventually, Doc's spell runs out of steam and he winds up... somewhere. By an amazing coincidence, he reforms right near an important character to this story. The character is so important, neither Ditko, nor Lee bothered to name her. Stranger danger lady warns Doc to go back whence he came. She succinctly explains that her mad sister has stolen her throne and will kill any strangers. While Queen-in-exile remains nameless, her evil usurper, we discover, is named Shazana. While the two banter, one of Shazana's guards capture the two of them.

Doc is brought before her and attempts some friendliness. Shazana's having none of it! "My sister brought you here. Just a moment while I conjure a spell to kill the both of you!" Doc manages a counter-spell which alerts Shazana to the fact that he is also a magician. Shazana tries again and Doc fends it off but is too weak for anything else. "Maybe she'll think I'm always this useless" Doc thinks to himself. For some never explained reason, Shazana doesn't try again to kill them.

Shazana then realizes her sister is a weak little pain in her butt and send her to her room. Doc conjures a distraction to give him some time to rest and regain some strength. The distraction arrives in the form of a Shazana toady telling her she needs to accept tribute. "I'll be back, stranger, and then you'll see!" Shazana leaves. Doc is still to weak for just about everything, including going ghost, so he has no choice to wait as a weird creature looks in on him.

We have a brief interlude at the Ancient One's secret cave where Hamir, his retainer, is busy retaining him. The old dude continues to babble on about helping Doc. The keyword "Eternity" is absent this chapter.

Back across the infinite dimensions, Doc has encountered the weird little creature when he has an idea. "This odd little dude hangs around Shazana a lot. I'll bet it knows something," and proceeds to probe it's mind. I'm not sure if these creatures can give consent and therefore the morality of this action is unknown to me.

We get a nice, terse origin for Shazana. She enticed a magician to teach her magic, killed him and stole the throne. Her power all comes from a glowing globed hidden in the funky looking throne in the funky throne room.

Doc then sends an image of his all-purpose amulet's eye to the unnamed sister and tells her to meet him in the throne room.

More mystic TV! How awesome!

Doc and the nameless one wait for Shazana to finish banishing the tributaries for insufficient tribute. She heads out to taunt her captives and finds them gone. "Oh Crap! My magic globe!" She heads back, but Doc has used the time to start blasting the funky throne with his amulet. The throne fades away revealing the globe. Doc shatters it, making Shazana powerless. Unnamed lady reclaims her throne as her sister is driven mad. Doc heads back home. Best of luck Nameless Majesty, long may you reign.

It's silly and the plot isn't very original, but it's a nice diversion from the main arc. In many ways it's a traditional fairy tale. If we look at our women, the good girl is a blond while the evil one is a brunette. I don't know if that's intentional. They are dressed similarly with odd headgear. The deposed queen has an extra tress of hair sticking out the top of her head. Perhaps that denotes her higher rank. Shazana is dressed in green. I'm not sure if it's Ditko or the colorist, but they do like green for their villains. Onward!

#doctor strange #doctor strange reviews #strange tales #ancient one #dormammu #baron mordo #stephen strange #clea #Shazana #marvel #comics #stan lee #steve ditko

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myocsfanfictions · 1 year ago

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The Road Ahead of Us - TWD (Season 2)

The Walking Dead Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

They had left Atlanta behind, trying to reach Fort Benning; but during an apocalypse nothing ever goes at it is planned. Sarah and Nicolette will have to face new challenges and dangers. How will they survive?

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Chapter 32

SARAH

What Rick had said has been very shocking for Sarah, as for everyone else. The fact that Rick kept it a secret was not right, not at all. She understood that he wanted to protect them, but keeping them in the dark was not the right solution for anyone.

"I can't believe it," Glenn muttered. Sarah knew what he felt, but now it was useless to talk about it; they had to make sure to build a safe camp.

"A'right," Daryl whispered, before looking at every one of them, "Imma take some wood for the fire. Sarah," he turned to her, "Do that thin' Rick asked you to," she nodded her head.

"Don't go alone," she said to him, who observed her for a moment, biting his lips before looking at Glenn.

"Ya come with me?" he asked and Glenn agreed after he took a deep breath.

"Me, Maggie, and T-Dog will keep the guard," Hershel said, holding his rifle closer.

"I'll look at the kids," Carol said, putting a hand on Carl's shoulder.

They were all divided to do what they were supposed to. As she walked towards the wall, Sarah observed her sister. She seemed deep in thought and nervous. She must have been very scared.

"Nicolette," she said, stopping by her sister, who looked at her quietly, "Do you wanna help me with the rope?"

"Alright," Nicki said almost whispering. She was really shaken up; her expression was almost impossible to see, but her fingers were moving, and her skin was paler. Something was bothering her mind more than usual.

"T, could you help me?" Sarah said catching the man's attention, who nodded, "I need to move the cars," she said, "I want to block the entrance facing the road. We stop them diagonally," she pointed, explaining her idea, "The backs attached to the walls, the fronts touching to each other. At least they don't jump."

"Gotcha," he said, "I take the red, you the green," Sarah nodded. They took little time. Beth had helped T-Dog with his car, and Nicki had helped Sarah. At least the front was secured. Then she brought Nicolette to the back. The roop that she had brought with her was long enough to touch it around different trees. She could not close the entrance, but she could create a sort of fence to defend a side. The other was open, but they needed an escape route if they needed to.

"You wanted to talk to me, right?" Nicki asked as Sarah was securing the rope around a tree most close to the little river they had at the back.

"It depends if you wanna talk," she answered, knowing perfectly well that if Nicki didn't wanted to speak, she wouldn't have.

As she was making a solid knot, Sarah glanced at her sister, noticing her eyes fixed on Carl. She was overthinking a lot; Sarah could almost see her brain at work, but she said nothing. She waited patiently for her sister to open up. And in the end, she did.

"There's something I keep thinking," Nicki said, making a step towards her sister, who looked up at her, giving her her full attention, "Why did Shane stage all of that? With Randall?"

That was a good question. A question that Sarah had thought too.

"Daryl said that Shane and Randall were together... where they found the body," Sarah said thinking back at what Daryl had said in the house.

"He didn't follow him?" Nicki asked and Sarah shook her head. Her sister's eyes were fixed on the ground. Sarah didn't blame her. She was sad that Shane had died, but what he did to Randall had been terrible and unjustified.

"Me and Carl saw Shane's body," at her sister's words, Sarah let the rope go to turn to look at Nicki, "When we got there, he turned..." she kept explaining, "Carl was the one who put him down," Sarah let out a shaky breath. Those poor children had seen something terrible, another friend died and then turned into a walker. Sarah's eyes moved briefly in Carl's direction. He was so young...

"He wasn't bit," Nicki kept saying after a moment of silence, "He was just dead, and Rick never told us how it happened..." Sarah observed her sister.

"What do you think?" Sarah asked getting closer to Nicki. The girl looked at her for a moment, before letting out a breath.

"What if he attacked Rick?" she asked finally. Sarah's breath stopped in her throat. Would he really do something like that? For what? The leadership? Lori?

But they were friends...

"Oh god," Sarah muttered.

"Why did he go crazy?" Nicolette asked after some moments of silence, making Sarah observe her with pain in her gaze, "He wasn't like that..."

"If he did," Sarah said trying to keep her voice stady, "Maybe... all of this, with all we are living..."

"Can someone change that much?" Nicki asked, her voice betraying her; for the first time, Sarah could hear them speak with worry, "He protected us, he was gentle, and then..." She was speaking the truth; everyone had noticed the change in his behavior, and the change had been quite abrupt and undeniable.

"Can someone else change?" Nicki asked.

"No, Nicki," Sarah said making a step towards her sister.

"That's a lie," she said looking at her sister, "You know it is..."

"These people are our friends, Nicki, you know that," Nicki nodded her head.

"I know," she said, her voice shaky, "But what if it happens? What should we do? What should I do?" Sarah pulled her sister into her arms. It broke her heart to see her like that, so scared, and some tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I couldn't even shoot an arrow at him," she kept saying as she hugged Sarah back.

"He was your friend, Nicki," she said rubbing her back, "Shooting him wasn't something easy to do."

" But I can't freeze if something like that happens," Nicki answered, breaking the hug, "I can't do that," and without waiting for an answer, her sister turned to move back towards the others.

That wasn't what Nicolette should have worried about, she was so young. She should have talked about TV series, music, or boys, not weapons and putting down friends who became walkers.

"Hey..." Daryl's voice made her turn, and as she saw him, Sarah quickly dried her tears.

"Hey," she said as she heard him walk closer. He had gone to search for some wood for the fire.

"Ya alright?" He asked. His eyes were on her. Sarah bit her lips, shaking her head.

"Nicki saw Shane turn," she explained, "She... felt bad because she couldn't put him down," Sarah dried more of her tears, "She is scared, and I don't know what to do. I'm scared too and I don't know..."

"Hey," he whispered getting closer to her, "It's gonna be alright," he said again, making her look up at him.

"This sounds like a promise," she said.

Daryl observed her for a moment, biting his lip, before nodding his head, "It is."

Sarah didn't know what to say, but she hoped that he knew that his words meant a lot to her.

She moved one of her hands to touch his, "Thank you," she said forcing a little smile. Daryl's eyes moved to their hands, before looking at her again.

"You need help?" She asked, but he shook his head.

"Nah, I'm good," he answered with a low voice before waiting for Sarah to set up the rope, and then they both went back to the others.

T-Dog was keeping guard while Carl and Lori sat near the fire that Daryl was staring at. Hershel was hugging Beth as Maggie and Glenn sat next to each other. Nicki was sitting a little further from them, her back laid against the wall, while Carol sat next to Daryl, on the other side from where Sarah was.

"We're not safe with him, keeping something like that from us," Carol said looking at Daryl. Sarah frowned as she listened, "Why do you need him? He's just gonna pull you down."

Sarah looked at Daryl as he spoke, "No. Rick's done all right by me."

"You're his henchmen and I'm a burden," Carol argued.

"Carol, with all due respect, but what the hell are you saying?" Sarah asked leaning forward, hoping that no one was listening to them.

"You're a burden too," Carol said, and Sarah felt taken aback by her words, "He deserves better, and you know it."

Sarah was about to answer, but Daryl spoke instead, glaring at Carol, "What do you want?"

"A man of honor," Carol answered and Sarah felt her eyes gone wide. What was she saying? Leaving Rick behind? What was her plan?

"Rick has honor," Daryl answered and Sarah looked at him. He was loyal and kind and she was glad he was with them and didn't want to leave.

"Maybe we should take our chance," Maggie said, looking at Glenn, and Sarah could not believe what they were saying.

"We have to stay together now," Sarah said with wide eyes. How could they not see it? Together they were stronger? They wouldn't have lasted two days all scattered around.

"Sarah is right," Hershel said, "There's no food, no fuel, no ammo-"

Suddenly the sound of leaves rustling made them all get up. Sarah turned to her sister, who had already come closer, an arrow already on her bow.

"What was that?" Beth asked.

"Could be anything," Daryl answered, Sarah was behind him, feeling the fear growing in her. If it was a walker, maybe they could take it down, but what if there were more, "Could be a raccoon, could be a possum-"

"A walker," Carol interrupted Daryl, "We need to leave."

"Going where?" Nicki said skeptically, "It's night."

"It's better than staying here," Carol answered, "I mean, what are we waiting for?"

"Calm down," Sarah said, hoping that Carol would not freak out and run off somewhere.

"Which way?" Glenn asked.

"It came from over there," Maggie said, bracing her rifle.

"Back from where we came," Beth whispered. And she was right.

"The last thing we need is for everyone to be running off in the dark," Rick's voice made Sarah turn; she didn't even notice that he had gotten back, "We don't have the vehicles. No one is traveling on foot," Sarah agreed with him, even if she didn't miss the annoyed look he had looking at all of them.

"Don't panic," Hershel said trying to keep everyone calm.

"I'm not sitting here waiting for another herd to blow through," Maggie said anxiously.

"We don't know if it is a walker," Sarah insisted, trying to keep calm. She knew that the situation was fucked up. They were in the open and anything could pass by, but panic never helped anyone.

"We need to move now," Maggie insisted, but this time, it was Rick who talked.

"No one is going anywhere!" He exclaimed.

"Do something!" Carol said.

"I am doing something!" Rick argued back, "I'm keeping this group together, alive. I've been doing that all along, no matter what. I didn't ask for this!"

Rick had always tried; he had always done his best to help and protect them all since the first day they met. He didn't put himself in charge; they let him, and Sarah did not think it was fair for them to turn on him because they were in a difficult situation. Being divided meant death; how could they not see that?

"I killed my best friend for you people, for Christ's sake!" Sarah's eyes widened at his words as she turned towards her sister. Nicki was observing the man, but there was no expression on her face as she kept quiet. Nobody said anything.

"You saw what he was like," Rick kept saying, "How he pushed me, how he compromised us, how he threatened us," Sarah looked up at Daryl, and they both shared a look.

"He staged the whole Randall thing," Rick kept saying and Sarah could not help but observe her sister, "Led me out to put a bullet in my back," Nicki had been right. Shane had tried to kill Rick.

"He gave me no choice," he kept saying, "He was my friend but he came after me," as Carl started to cry in his mother's arms, it had been the only moment in which Nicki turned away. Still no emotion on her face.

"My hands are clean!" Rick kept saying, and nobody dared to answer anything. Among them fell an heavy silence, only Carl's whimpers could be heard.

"Maybe you people are better off without me," Rick said, "Go ahead!" Sarah looked at the others, trying to understand if someone was talking in consideration of actually leaving, but it was very difficult to catch; they were all too shocked, too scared.

"I say there's a place for us, but maybe it's just another pipe dream," Rick said and Sarah let out a shaky breath, glancing at her sister. She was hoping that there was a place, somewhere, where her sister could grow in peace and safety. There must have been one, somewhere.

"Maybe I'm fooling myself again," Rick kept saying, "Why don't you go and find out yourself? Send me a postcard! Go ahead, that's the door!" Sarah and Daryl looked at each other once more, "You can do better? Let's see how far you get," Rick said, but nobody moved, "No takers? Fine! But get one thing straight: you're staying, this isn't a democracy anymore," and then he walked away.

They all looked at each other in silence, knowing perfectly that they would not have made it on their own. They had to stay together. Now more than ever. Sarah looked at her sister; Nicki was her priority, and she would have done anything to keep her safe. Anything.

#twd #the walking dead #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #twd imagine #the walking dead imagine #carl grimes #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x oc #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x reader #season 2

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